


Time Never Stops

by SleepEatRead



Series: The Odyssey of Time [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 3rd age, Abstinence, Enduring love, F/M, Fluff, Marital disputes, Memories, Memory Loss, Multi, Pregnancy, Rehabilitation, Reunion, Sex, War, incomplete reunion, living in the past, pregnancy worries, pure romance, ressurection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-01-10 19:44:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18414608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepEatRead/pseuds/SleepEatRead
Summary: Mysteriously and disappointingly alive in the early third age, mutilated and without any memories to call her own, Lolita makes her own path in the brothel of a human settlement--until she is no longer Lolita.How she became Elizabeth, and then how she ~truly~ became Elizabeth, to all those who love her, is the real story. *Pure Romance.*





	1. The Brothel

**Author's Note:**

> Credit is where credit is due; J.R.R. Tolkien. Other characters and 'scenarios' belong to me, infused with Tolkien's. But that is what fanfiction is. Take permission if you guys wanna get an idea and if you are up to having your work posted on my series, DM me.

“Take those--these sheets aren’t clean,” Rose snapped, chucking soiled sheets at me. I took them wordlessly. She was extremely popular with the men and why wouldn’t she be? She was tall, fair of face, and had an ‘exotic’ hair colour, which was just another fancy term the pimp use to say ‘redhead.’ Sheets in this house were never clean.

I took them dully and walked away. Ever since I woke up in the infirmary across the town two years ago, I could barely remember my own name. I was found in a dishevelled state, I was told, with terrible bruises around my neck, but no trauma to the head to vouch for my missing memories. So now I was named Lolita, and I was given a job in the house. I was too dark to be a proper whore, something I was extremely thankful for. That and I was far too disfigured. I had arrived with a missing forearm, scars crisscrossing on my back, my ears mutilated beyond recognition, and a few tattoos, under my breast, on my ankle, and on my wrist. I suppose one must make do with what one has.

So I collected bed sheets, cleaned the house, filled baths, and did all the jobs that any person with two hands can do much more easily than I can. But a starving stomach and a medical bill forced me to persevere and I think the pimp took pity and allowed me to work here. Besides, as long as I did my job and kept my mouth shut, who was he to complain?

“Hey Lolita,” Rose called, I turned around and barely caught a tiny, half-chewed shilling, “Take this, you look like you can use some extra meat on your bones.”

They often gave me the half-chewed shillings because no self-respecting shop owner wanted those. They didn't give it out of compassion or even pity. I knew they gave it because they liked to toss it and see me fumble in an undignified manner with my stump. I didn’t care though, I set the laundry basket down and snatched it greedily. If I begged enough, they might give me a small cup of milk for it. My dignity stood no chance in a world like this, funnily enough. Most of the time I didn't mind. I had no designs to rise above my station. I wasn't shrewd enough to do so, nor was I cruel enough to step on other people for my ambitions. Not that I had ambitions. What a silly notion for someone as pitiful as me.

I could always go to Rivendell, a few miles past the mountain pass. It was a far walk, but it was also risky. No one had any problems with the elves, but still...no one really wanted to openly say they had dealings with them for the tales of their magic and their superiority. Despite them being a vital effort in the Great War, an entire age ago, they were feared and I heard of bedtime stories...elves stealing little children and making little slaves out of them. No one wanted them or their Numenorean _cousins_ , who had been sacked for their insolence from their beautiful lands in Numenor--dubbing themselves the Dunedain and claiming land that technically belonged to the people of Middle Earth and not to the people of Numenor, which embittered many of the men here.

But Rivendell was always open to anything, even lowly servants such as myself, I am sure. The only part that made me hesitant about going there was the fact that the majority was comprised of Noldorin Elves. Their long and terrible history of Kinslaying and affinity for war made me a little hesitant to go there. I heard of what the sons of Feanor; Caranthir, Celegorm, and Curufin, the leaders of their people, did to their other kin (the Sindar and the Avari) and the men who were deemed lesser. I heard of their cruelty. But I also heard that the Lord of Rivendell, Lord Elrond, was as kind as summer. Surely he would be kind enough to give me more than a glass of milk? Or at least exchange for a new shilling? But that journey was too long to take for something so menial. Maybe when I have accumulated enough half-chewed shillings. But not right now, not in such an undignified state.

I shook my head and walked back to the laundry room and began combing through the sheets. I was fine with doing the laundry, I did it alone, most of the time. This time I was completely alone and I liked it that way. I needed to think alone and plan alone. I didn't want to feel the weight of the pitiful and judgemental stared down my back.

That night when I went back to my tiny but livable room next to the stables, I put my small, half-chewed shilling in one of the many jars I had collected, all of them filled with many shillings. I now had at least five pounds on me. If I had ten, maybe I could buy a new dress and exchange the rest at Rivendell. Surely that would be enough? Prices were always higher because I had such dark, unnatural skin. The elves should be no different, they might even charge me for the exchange, even if they are kind.

Just a few more days left before I get paid…

*~*~*

Travelling to Rivendell, staying there for three hours, and returning to the village took a day. If I didn’t take any stops or rest and if I borrowed the buggy. No one would lend me a buggy so I might have to hitch a ride with one of the Dunedain who often passed by. But their timings were unpredictable and there was no guarantee that they would let me with them.

So I had to wait. Perhaps the elves would find me somewhat useful...it would be a far fetch but I couldn’t guarantee it. They had human slaves and servants in an age long past, could I be any different? So as I promised myself, I bought myself a demure blue dress, second-hand, and with the remaining money I had, I began looking for a Ranger who would be willing to take me to Imladris. I only had one day to make such a journey before I would get fired from my job. I usually never had any breaks for myself, there was too much work to do and not enough helping hands and the pay was terrible but it still managed to pay my medical debts. This was just one of my rare and lucky days, I suppose.

“Sir,” I murmured shyly, tugging at the cloak of one of the Dunedain. The man turned around, looking down at me in surprise and I was surprised at his physical appearance. He had the trademark dark hair and blue eyes look about him, that was associated with Elros Tar-Minyatur. The man was rugged--significantly more handsome than any man in this town that I have ever seen. I never usually saw beneath their hoods.

“Yes, madam?” he asked me patiently when I didn’t speak. I mentally shook my head and began speaking.

“By chance, are you going to Rivendell?” I asked him tentatively.

“I am, what business do you have?” he asked me, somewhat cynically.

“Well...I was hoping to buy something from there--or at least exchange my shillings?” it was risky to give my business away so freely and clearly he thought so too, but he was still asking. I suppose that was to protect the integrity of their beloved Imladris from someone like me. I wouldn't blame him.

“Would you help me get there?” I asked him before he turned around and walked away. “I can pay some...not a lot though, I don’t have much.”

“Keep your payment,” the man said gruffly, pausing to eye me, somewhat pitifully, “I don’t mind you coming along, but do make yourself useful,” he eyed my stump doubtfully, “If you can.”

“I can,” I told him hotly. My disfigurement made certain things harder to get with but otherwise, I managed myself well enough.

“I don’t mean spreading your legs,” he said cruelly and I felt my voice die in my throat. I know he hadn't meant that… what did he think? That seemed to be the general impression everyone seemed to get from me. They seemed to believe that darker people were less intelligent or less... honourable? I was not surprised. Before the war, long before, the sacking of Numenor, there were histories of raids against human villages in Middle Earth here by the Numenor. Has this terribleness passed on? I hope not. I hope he was as honourable as his reformed peoples.

“I’m not a whore,” I snapped, feeling edgy at that comment. “I am too ugly to be one, I only wash the sheets.”

“Just shut up and if you have a whore’s name, change it,” he snapped, walking away, I hurried to keep up with his long strides. “They will know, I will not have you soiling Lord Elrond’s name with your presence like that.”

“I don’t have a whore’s name,” I frowned, “At least, I don’t think I do.”

“What is it then?” the man demanded, stopping in front of a large steed, feeding him an apple.

“Lolita,” I said nervously, wincing at how childish that name was. It wasn't just childish...it was brazen also. There was at least three whores here who had the same name.

“That is a whore’s name,” he deadpanned, “Change it, figure something out.”

“How about...Primrose?” I asked him tentatively, I had always liked that set of names...Ophelia, Victoire, Elizabeth, Primrose...Those names I loved very much. They were all very elegant to me. He sniffed with disdain, looking down at me as though he was not quite sure what to make of me. It was clear that he thought that name far too elegant for the likes of me. “Or Elizabeth?” I suggested.

“Better,” he told me curtly. “A waste of a good name, but it will do. It isn’t yours forever, you know?”

“I know,” I said, realizing that this truth was perhaps the most devastating truth that I have ever come across.

*~*~*

As it turns out, the Dunedain's name was Haroc, but I didn’t think that was his real name, funnily enough. Other than the fact that he was a moody grump, we got along swimmingly.  At least, as swimmingly as any acquaintance would get, when neither spoke to the other.

The path to Rivendell was infinitely more dangerous than I thought it would be. It just seemed so clear and so airy from afar..but now, the trees literally seemed to cave in on each other and by the time it was in the afternoon, all I could think about was if I was dressed appropriately, how would they receive me, will they even consider receiving me? Maybe I was sweating too much and looked like a melting wax statue.

“Take care, madam,” Haroc told me, “These borders are well protected but the seed of Morgoth is strong.”

I blinked at him. A war had passed, an entire three millennia ago. Many great and renowned princes, lords, kings, and commanders fell and rose. _The Last Alliance_ , it was called, because everyone fought. Feanor’s last living, direct descendant, Celebrimbor, died in it in the most notorious and infamous way: under the hand of the servants of Sauron. It was _so_ infamous. It was the subject of many scary bedtime stories or prompts to get children to be obedient. Many stories and songs about the war would bring nightmares into my dreams, even still, when I knew better. Still, many referred to it. There may be peace in our time, but there was always a shadow lurking. The war, even when it had faded into the years, was a sore subject for many because the population was barely recovering and the seed of Morgoth was relentless, even in defeat.

“I have a knife,” I said helpfully taking out the measly butter knife I carried around with me for as long as I was ever aware.

“That is little better than a poke,” he sighed, seeming impatient. I frowned, I stabbed a man’s eye with it when he tried to force me once. I stabbed him deep enough to make him suffer wordlessly for many hours, in a ditch, before he died three days later.  No one ever suspected it was me. But Haroc didn’t need to know that. It was the only time I ever used it and it always saddened me to think about it. It never felt good to do that...but he was too strong and I had panicked, I hadn't known that I did it until I did it. It all happened so fast. But I was right to do it I suppose, and that is why I never wasted a minute's sleep on it and sometimes, I even forgot about it.

But I was loathed to think about that time, but it was easy to forget about it. No one needed the influence of Morgoth in this village. I suppose I did them all a favour without them knowing. 

“Will we be there soon?” I was getting nervous, trying to reel my head away from such dark thoughts and unto urgent matters.

“Just a turn up ahead and another few miles to kill,” Haroc said casually.

My shoulders slumped. I will surely be fired by then...this journey was useless and I wasn't guaranteed a ride back. I shouldn’t have taken such a foolish, useless journey. Money is money, what was wrong with a few half-chewed shillings? What made me think that the elves would want them instead? It was all very terrible and a confused business. it was all misleading. I was too simple to think anything like that through. Just when I opened my mouth to tell him to disregard me in the journey...that I will be heading back, an arrow whizzed past us.

I froze, my words dying in my throat, I didn’t know what just happened, but I had a terrible hunch.

“Run,” Haroc snarled, shoving me off his horse and unto the ground, painfully on my bum. I rolled away from his horse’s hooves, lest the horse actually panics and crush me.  I did exactly as he commanded me, running away from the horse, limping at first to get adjusted to the change in dynamics. 

“Run!” I could hear him around me and I could hear the screeches, the terrible screeches, inhuman and blood-curdling. I ran as fast as I could, barely affording to look back lest I trip over a vine or something. My feet felt clumsy...I felt clumsy. This was all happening too fast...too soon.

Loud horns blasted behind me and I let out a panicked cry, there were more of these creatures? I could see them when I glanced around me, black ad bulky, snarling and yelling in their strange, foul language. They were running to catch up with me, I realized. This made my mouth taste bitter. Their smell, even when I was running so far away from them, was reeking. It was suffocating. 

_Oh, Dear Eru, save me._

But my prayers were not to be answered today because all of a sudden, I stopped at the edge of a cliff overlooking the water. The dropped looked long and deadly and so did the prospect of becoming a toy to these foul creatures. I heard tales of their cruelty, their sadism, and their terrible nature. I heard how they impaled Celebrimbor, the greatest of the Noldor after Feanor, and marched with him like a banner. I heard what they did to that Noldorin Elf-Lord. I knew of they burned and raped villages, how they mutilated little children. I would rather dive head first into the rocks.

But my feet wouldn’t take me any further, I didn’t have the courage. I turned around fearfully, the creatures had surrounded me. I blinked back tears...my unnaturalness that was so despised by the people in my village was nothing compared to the atrocities standing before me, laughing and cursing, taunting me, brandishing their weapons. How could anyone have ever disdained me when they saw these creatures?

But then the arrows rained down upon these creatures, causing me to shriek in alarm. I stepped back in fear, looking at the source of the arrows. Tall men, on large, fair steeds, rode towards me. I felt a relief that turned my knees boneless. I would not meet my end today--

 _They were not stopping._ They kept going at full speed, even after they have slain all the orcs. I stepped back once more in alarm. My foot slipped and I was suddenly floating in mid-air.

It was a terrible feeling, the feeling of suspension, on literally nothing. And the feeling of dropping on a flat surface of the water was even worse because the pain was so terrible, I cried out and swallowed so much water, I saw black.

I was going to drown.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lolita, currently and unofficially Elizabeth, is where she needs to be once she wakes from her fall. But there is a conflict of interest when an elf-man is claiming to know her on an intimate level, which causes Elizabeth to second-guess her actions. But there is now hope that she never had before.

I don’t remember much of what happened to me, but the pain was terrible and I think that was the only thing that kept me alive. It kept me awake and it was what forced me to swim up, breaking the surface of the rapidly and relentlessly moving water. It was what made me cough up all the water that I swallowed and it was what forced my legs to shore.

But after that...I truly passed out.

*~*~*

_I was on a moving carriage...a woman, naked and pregnant, gorgeous, rose from simmering blue waters...the same woman, falling into a pit of fire in her beautiful red dress...the same woman, lying on the ground, shards of broken glass, with her blood, surrounding her like a halo...a tall man bending to kiss the same woman on the lips...a beautiful flower garden...A terrible judgment hall…That woman is me..._

I was falling again.

But only this time, I woke up, my heart racing a million miles an hour. My skin was aching, like a fire had been spilled on it, and my throat was in severe pain. My head was pounding and all I could think was...where am I?

I was in the whitest room I had ever seen in my life, it was clean and it smelled of herbs and cleanliness. The scent, to me, was so familiar that it made my eyes tear up. It must have been familiar to me, in another life. A life I couldn’t remember even though I desperately wished to. But maybe the smell was not a memory, maybe it was just a scent that smelled and felt good to me.

“You are awake,” it was a man’s voice, soft and deep, smooth and almost musical...it didn’t seem unfamiliar to me, many men had the same low baritones, but this was infinitely different. I could tell how. I turned my head to the source of the voice and I was awestruck by the beautiful man before me, seated on the stool, so close to me he could almost touch me should he nudge one powerful shoulder towards me. I leaned away, perturbed by the closeness.

He seemed tall, his shoulders were broad and he was powerfully built. His hair was a mane of gold, like cords of sunlight, even in the night around us. His face was angular, sharp, and all the high-points of his face were prominent and sharp. His eyes were the bluest I have ever seen, even somewhat green and glowing so brightly it could light a tunnel. He was the most beautiful man--no, elf, I have ever seen. His ears were pointed and long, stuck out of the thick, long mane that was his hair. But something about him seemed terribly distressed.

He was seated at the edge of his chair, leaning forward, his eyes watching me, hungrily, as though I was a racehorse and he was betting for my win but it did not seem likely...but it was more profound than that. His hands, large and elegant, twitched, as though he longed to reach out and touch me. I didn’t know why he would want to though, I was nowhere near as beautiful as he was.

“I am,” I nodded hesitantly, “Are you Lord Elrond?”

He had to be...no, Lord Elrond was dark-haired, for sure. He was Noldor, after all, and the Noldor were infamous for their trademark straight, black hair, raw-features, and grey eyes. No, this man’s hair was curly and his features were strangely alien to that I have never seen before. The arrangement of his face was far too symmetrical to be considered normal. It couldn’t be. He was the furthest thing from Noldor there ever was...perhaps Vanya? It could be the only explanation. There was no portrait in the city hall, where all the leaders of the village and the infamous leaders of the Last Alliance were painted gloriously, that had a human’s facial features faintly resembling this man’s strong but sharp features. But that couldn’t be, the Vanya never stepped foot on these shores, and only did once, so long ago, to defeat evil at its peak. Why would they choose to remain if they were able to return to the glorious lands of the immortal?

The man’s face fell, heartbreak drawing his features taut and I felt as though I had personally wronged him. I felt so terrible that my question displeased such a beautiful man that I blurted; “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he choked, “You have nothing to be sorry for. _..my beauty, my sweet summer--wif--_ ” he cut himself off, choking with emotion and I blinked. His words were mixed, all Westron and Sindarin and another language I couldn’t quite recognize. But what surprised me the most was that I recognized what he was saying, both in language and in sentiment. That did not sit well with me.

“Who are you?” I demanded, sitting up quickly, ignoring my pain. I was beginning to be frightened by this man--who I felt as though I knew so well but was just as good as a stranger to me.

“ _My love, my sweet gift,_ I am Glorfindel-- _your Lord--hus_ \--do you not know me?” His hands swiftly came to my arms, grasping me there, holding the side of my face with his large palm, stroking me lovingly, his eyes soft and glowing. But that did not put me at ease. In fact, that alarmed me. This man had no business touching me as if I was a lover. No one had any business touching a stranger like that. This touch was reserved for lovers. This frightened me out of sensibility.

“Glorfindel?” I echoed, incredulous. Glorfindel died in the First Age, in the Fall of Gondolin. His sacrifice was legendary and so was his rebirth and role in the War. It couldn’t be--but it was not beyond the realm of possibility, with all his signature golden hair.

“Yes,” he gasped, as though he had just resurfaced his head from the water after staying there for a long while, “Yes, my love, do you not know me? Do you not _remember_?”

“I don’t know you,” I snapped, annoyed with how familiar he was being with me--touching me so _intimately_ , so _feelingly_. “Please, my Lord, don’t touch me.”

Despite how dark I was, it still got me unwanted attention just because I was _shaped_ like a woman, and because I was _weaker_. They always touched me...tried with me...pushed me around. I disliked it then and I disliked it now, even if it was from a renowned elf-lord. I hated this attention.

His face fell but then it cleared, as though he was just realizing something unpleasant; “Forgive me, my Lady,” he said, seeming to be trying to recollect himself. “I didn't mean to cause you discomfort...I just--I _know--I_ feel as though I know you.”

I nodded at him patiently, trying to understand him but I couldn’t, even though I knew. The paradox was driving me insane. “Where is Lord Elrond?”

“He--he is busy right now,” Lord Glorfindel was watching me hungrily, his hands twitching on his lap. But then he blinked and abruptly got up, clearing his throat. His abruptness was giving me whiplash. “I must--I must excuse myself.”

The words seemed to physically pain him. I nodded at him wordlessly, watching him stiffly march away.

*~*~*

Lord Elrond was significantly more composed than Lord Glorfindel, to say the least. He was nice about everything. He didn’t look at me like all the others looked at me (Lord Glorfindel was the exception that I didn’t know what to make of). He was kind and gentle and he spoke to me instead of at me.

I was right about the assumption that he was Noldo-looking. His hair was straight and black but his eyes were not grey, they were a stormy blue color, and his face was young. The familiarity of his infamous Noldorin features was a comfort to me. I wasn’t sure why I imagined his face to be old and wrinkled.

“Thank you, my lord,” I murmured, once he finished applying the ointment on my back, “I don’t know how to pay you back, the money I had with me was lost with Haroc...Haroc, is he alright?”

“Haroc is fine, madam,” Lord Elrond assured me, “He had delivered your possessions safely.”

“Oh,” I murmured quietly. “How long has it been since…?”

I wanted to say ordeal but I wasn’t quite sure what had happened. It had all happened too fast.

“Two days,” Lord Elrond told me, watching me carefully. “Haroc has since departed back to his folk.” My face fell...well, two days, they probably sold all my other possessions back at the boarding house. I wanted to smack myself for basically destroying whatever stability I had. Why didn’t I think this through more properly?

“Thanks,” I said. I didn’t need to make a pity show out of it for all the elves.

“May I ask, how come you make your home among the edain?” Lord Elrond asked me casually, fiddling with something...a drink.

“ _Edain_?” I asked him incredulously, why else did he think? “Because I am one.”

Everyone was insane here and it was starting to make me think that I was the only smart person here.

“No you are not,” he said flatly, “You are not edain, you are a _halfling_.”

I blinked at him stupidly; “What do you mean? I--well my ears are…”

I trailed off, I didn’t have ears, I woke up and they were cut off from me. I never knew what shape they were--pointed or rounded.

“You have not had a simple life,” Lord Elrond acknowledged, eyeing my stump with something akin to sympathy in his shining eyes. I flinched away from him. “It is clear that you have suffered and it is even clearer that you do not recall your suffering.”

I was surprised that he made so many assumptions, and I was even more vexed to find that he was right about every single one of them.

“Well…” I trailed off, trying to piece together my words, “What about it--no, how do you know all this?”

I hadn’t meant to sound so defensive but so far, no one here put me at ease.

“I am a healer by nature,” he told me gently, gesturing around in the healing wards I was in, “It is in my gift to see the suffering of others and to try and help.”

“Well…” I frowned, “Do you know how you can help me bring back my memories?”

“First let us start from the beginning, I will then determine if it is within my realm of possibility to help you,” Lord Elrond said, handing me a clear glass--I have never held glass in my hands before and it almost made me drop the cup. Glass was expensive and anyone who could afford it was richer than a king, for sure.

“Drink,” he commanded me and I obeyed. The drink itself was sweet. It made my mouth sour from how sweet it actually was.

“What is it,” I said after I finished it.

“It is a simple tea of sorts, to help ease your mind,” something about the way he said it was reproachful, but not towards me. His gaze swiftly cut to something behind me. I looked behind me and saw that Lord Glorfindel was sitting far away from me, but watching me in a hawk-like manner. I leaned away from him, giving him a strange look. He was a tenacious fellow, that one. Elrond was right, I would need this to help ease my mind around Lord Glorfindel because he didn’t seem as though he was going to move anytime soon.

“Thanks,” I turned back towards Lord Elrond. I maneuvered myself so that my legs were off the bed, it felt weird laying down while being addressed by him.

“Here,” he handed me a neatly-folded bundle of clothes, “I imagine you would appreciate a new set of clothes to wear.”

“New?” I asked him incredulously, no one simply gave out new clothes for random strangers to wear. Lord Elrond must have been really impressed by my unimpressive self to give me something so precious, “Thanks--but I have my own dresses.”

“A gift,” Lord Elrond insisted, “One friend to another.”

 _We are not friends,_ I wanted to say. But I was not about to refuse a new set of clothes so I simply thanked him and watched as he departed the room. I turned back to Lord Glorfindel, who still sat and watched me with the same attentiveness that one would give their child.

“Will you leave me to change in peace?” I asked him as politely as I was able but something about the intensity in his gaze made me adverse to his presence in general. Lord Glorfindel blinked at me blankly, as though he was genuinely surprised that I would ask that of him. His unwarranted familiarity with me confused me and frightened me and I didn’t want to be in the same room as him.

“Glorfindel,” Lord Elrond’s voice was sharp behind me and it seemed like that was enough to snap him out of a daze.

“Y-yes, of course, _my love,_ ” he murmured, dazed, as he got up and shuffled past me to the door, never taking his eyes off from me. Lord Elrond grabbed him by the collar, the man was an entire head taller than Lord Elrond but Lord Elrond, despite his comparably small size, was able to overpower the dazed lord and force him out of the room.

“A bath awaits you first,” Lord Elrond pointed to the door opposite from the other side of the room. I nodded at him, feeling glum.

“Thanks,” I murmured, not feeling very gracious. It was all very strange.

The bath was hot--with the scent of rose and lavender wafting from it. The scent itself was relaxing enough to make me want to sleep. I washed my hair and skin from the grime. Back at the whorehouse, it was difficult to get a bath that no one has come into. The baths were usually used by everyone first before I was able to use it and by then the water would be so filthy that it would dirty me more than it would clean me. So I would bath in the cold springs just a ways out of town. But this was perfect. I washed my teeth as best as I was able.  This made me cry a little. I may never be afforded such luxuries again.

The dress itself was long and blue. It was simple and elegant and it showed off my neckline flatteringly. I managed to put a simple braid into my hair, using my teeth and fingers and for a moment, I thought to myself, I looked like a lady.

*~*~*

Lord Elrond’s study was a grand affair that would make any self-respecting scholar cry. The number of books in his study took my breath away and it made my eyes tear up because I wished to hold these books and read through them. I wished it but  I was not even sure I could read. I could read simple signs but that was it. I never tried to read a novel and my state of illiteracy shamed me to no end. I just wished that I could be at liberty to grab any random book off the shelf and drink up all the words in the book.

I wiped a stray tear from my eye and a voice cleared his throat behind me. I swiftly turned around to face Lord Elrond. He was watching me pensively. I felt myself flush, at getting caught being so weak. I could brush it off as a speck in my eye but that would be silly. The room was so clean and so meticulously taken care of.

“You love to read?” he asked me.

I shook my head, sniffing, “I don’t--well, I can read simple things, I think.”

How ridiculous would it be if I said that I was not sure I could read? That would be so pitiful.

“Hmm…” he murmured noncommittal sound. “You are a marvel, I see you have great potential for many things. Your soul is still new in this world. Your youth would never fade from your face or body. But your potential has been suppressed.”

Something about the way in which he said that made it sound like a tragedy. I suppose in some way, it was. _Lost potential,_ there is no greater tragedy.

“Tell me,” he turned to me, his eyes glowing, and his tone commanding, “Tell me what happened. Start from the beginning. Leave nothing out, if you can.”

And I did; I told him that I was found, just a ways off the mountain pass from the village. I was in rough shape and my ears had been mutilated. Afterward, I worked in the brothel as a laundry-keeper because I was too strange to be a whore. I told him everything that was crucial to him ultimately helping me, or to attempt to help me. There was not much to tell. My tale over two years was short and the only thing I remembered was just those two years.

“Strange I heard no word from the village master of foundlings,” Lord Elrond frowned, “No matter, I have met you now.”

I nodded, at some point in my story, he had gestured for me to sit and had put a small glass of water in my hand. I was too nervous and excited to drink it but once I was finished with my story, I downed the entire glass.

“You are sure there was no trauma to your head?” he asked me sharply. I nodded, “Recount your injuries then, please.”

I did; A mutilated arm, terrible whip-marks on my back, mutilated ears, bruises around my neck, and just bruises all over.

“Someone must have tried to asphyxiate you,” Lord Elrond said speculatively, “Often times the lack of air damages your brain and it can cause long-term memory loss, along with other basic functions...allow me to please observe your head.”

He got up quickly, gesturing to my head and I nodded, “I don’t know how much you will find. If there was anything, it was two years ago. It must have healed by then.”

“Damaged tissues seldom heal properly,” Lord Elrond hummed, his hands skimming over my scalp, massaging through for any abnormalities. The act in itself nearly set me to sleep right on the spot. “You seem perfectly healthy to me; mentally, speaking. You are lucid and capable. The extent of your physical unwellness is only limited to injuries and mutilations of the past. Your dilemma is a curious one, indeed.”

I nodded, “That is what the physician in the village deduced as well.”

“Hmmm…” he hummed, sounding faintly disappointed. “Your memory loss can be the reaction of anything that had ever happened to you. It might be a response to a traumatic incident but that is highly unlikely in a grown individual. But any injury to your brain of that magnitude must have surely disabled you somehow, if not physically.”

He walked around me, grabbing a book off the shelf. It was a leatherbound book, thick and the sight of it made my heart pound.

He opened the book and stopped to a random page, gently setting the book before me; “Read this please.”

He pointed to a short line, written in Sindarin. I gently took the book from him; the scent of ink and parchment wafted to my nose and I inhaled deeply. It smelled so beautiful and it felt even better. The weight of it brought comfort to me.

“‘ _Translated by Elizabeth Lane of the House of The Golden Flower and Lord Relos of the House of the Pillar.’_ ” I was surprised I was able to read that.

“You read perfectly well,” Lord Elrond said, “Why do you say you cannot?”

“I suppose I never tried to,” I admitted, feeling genuinely pleased and surprised about the fact that I was not illiterate. “We never had many books to read. I only looked at the ones with pictures.”

“Do you recognize these names?” he asked me, pointing to the names. I shook my head; should I?

He made another noncommittal sound and gently extracted the book from my hands. “Go now, go to the Hall of Fire and find Elladan, my son. Summon him for me. I will speak with you further on this matter for another time.”

I nodded, disappointed. I wanted some form of explanation. Some sort of assurance, even if it was false. Before I left, however, I turned back to Lord Elrond.

“When will I return to my village?” I asked him, the words feeling like ashes in my mouth. Lord Elrond raised his eyebrows in surprise, as though he never even considered that question.

“From what I gathered, you have nothing to return to,” he said dryly, “If you wish to leave now, you may. But I cannot help you if you do. However, if you choose to stay, you will be accommodated accordingly.”

“Will I have work to do?” I asked him hopefully. I would rather work than depend on anyone’s charity.

“Would you like to work?” he asked me gently and I thought about it. Then I nodded, I don’t think the elves had brothels. I can make due with being a scullery maid, I suppose; “What would you like to do, then?”

I shrugged thoughtfully, “I never really thought about what I would like to do. Whoever needs help, I suppose, scullery maid?”

“I suppose I can take you on as my student for a while, and teach you some of the mysteries and crafts of healing,” he said thoughtfully and my heart leapt in my throat. “You can balance that with being a scullery maid as well, if you wish to take up all your time.”

“Yes please,” I breathed, excited about the prospect of doing something so...wonderfully advanced, as well as being a scullery maid, I suppose.

“Very well, then,” Lord Elrond was watching me as an indulgent parent would their child. “Now go find me my son in the Hall of Fire. Ask anyone and they will give you directions.”

I nodded, exiting the study, feeling hope blossom in my chest. He was just as kind as Summer. I don’t think I have ever felt anything like what I was feeling right now in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to submit your art for the Odessy of Time series to either my inbox on AO3 or my email:  
> larareda3@gmail.com  
> Don't forget to kudos and comment!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Laurefindel's perspective; his reaction to the re-embodiment of his wife, while simultaneously dealing with her lack of recognition to her husband. Basically just his obsessive inner monologue.

_The blood vapour and smoke was floating everywhere on the field, blinding and suffocating. Before Laurefindel laid the largest contraption in Mordor’s armies, in shambles and crumbles. He could feel a few pieces of shrapnel digging into his arm sword arm. But Laurefindel  didn’t care about that. His eyes swept of the men and the elves, scattered across the field like dominos. He felt his brow furrow in despair, but that despair was overpowered by the blood coursing through his veins, the fury he felt, and the heat of his body...he raised his sword arm again, ignoring the way the little shards ripped through his muscles and charged…_

_The houses of healing demanded every single surgeon available. They even took those who had limited medical knowledge. The desperation was agonizing. So many people were lost, a heavy price for the complete demolishment of Melkor’s armies. Laurefindel tweezed the last pieces of shrapnel from his arms quickly, well aware that there was a piece digging in there somewhere that he wouldn’t be able to see to properly. He wrapped his arms quickly with a piece of cloth from the hem of his tunic, using his teeth and good hand. Once he determined it was seen to as properly as could be, he began collecting dirty medical instruments for sterilization in the far, pot across the stuffy tent. The foul smell of excrete, blood, body odor, and rot invaded his senses but Laurefindel simply breathed through his mouth and began collecting the instruments._

_He paused at the sight of a woman laying there, in armor, her arm cut off--dark haired. He felt his entire world stop--it couldn’t be. No, it couldn’t. He felt his heart drop to his stomach, bile rising in its place. It couldn’t be. But the man attending to the woman turned her face, brushing the curls away from her face and Laurefindel’s world came crashing upon his head with relief. Elizabeth’s eyes were not blue and lifeless...no, they were not._

_Elizabeth was not alive to die a second time._

Laurefindel had thought that the Valar were cruel to reincarnate him, in another life, knowing that his own wife, his one true love, would not be in the same life as him. He was never sure what she actually was so her death seemed even more permanent, which was infinitely more devastating than he ever thought it could be.

But he loved her so much, it hurt. From the moment he had seen her, in her shapeless brown dress, with bruises and cuts all over her, before Turgon’s seat of judgement, his heart called out for her. He knew she was meant to be with him, in any way--he would be glad to accept. His offer for her hand had never been a selfless sacrifice as she had believed, as he had tried so many times to tell her otherwise. He had genuinely loved her and the arrival of that treacherous mortal, Earl Borg, had been just a catalyst for Laurefindel’s ultimate plan to be one with his sweet Elizabeth.

She had been the light in his life, the ultimate prize that he returned to after the many sleepless nights of patrolling the borders. She had always made his life easier; helping him with all the tedious paperwork, having witty banters with him (she did not think herself to be very amusing but he thought she was extremely humorous), always trying to comfort him in every way. He never really knew how to express how much he had appreciated her thoughtfulness and her love. Laurefindel was always eloquent but with his wife, he was always tongue-tied. So he loved her as best as he was able.

When Elizabeth was pregnant, her body was literally a vessel for the gift of their love to this world. Watching her and taking meticulous care of her was a priority second only to his duty to his beloved Gondolin, which shared an equally special place in his heart. Ophelia, Victoire, Primrose, their beautiful daughters, all alike in manner to their mother, but physically very much like Laurefindel. Laurefindel loved each and everyone of them unconditionally. But it was not the same love he harboured for his wife. Elizabeth held a special place in his heart that had been void for some four millennia as of now.

Ophelia had married Oropher, the late Kind of the Woodland Realm--Eryn Lasgalen--however, after his death, she had stayed with her son; Thranduil and helped him through the Battle of the Last Alliance, which was a devastating loss for them either way. Soon after her son’s marriage, she had departed to Valinor. It was the only time Laurefindel had ever seen her before she departed; at the docks in Lindon, when he had resided with Cirdan for sometime. He hadn’t even known if she was alive. Ophelia had kept a detailed account of the lives of her parents; all from Laurefindel’s childhood in Valinor, to her parents’ unconventional marriage, and the love that Ophelia and her sisters grew up in. Her book, which she gifted to him, with a teary, farewell kiss to her father’s cheek, spoke of the happier times in their lives. It spoke of the political unrest that never affected them, Elizabeth’s iconic and legendary stance in Nirnaeth  Arnoediad. Three versions of her book now rested in the great libraries of Mirkwood, Gondor, and in Lothlorien. But Laurefindel never could find it in himself to read fully Ophelia’s book. It was too painful.

Victoire, their middle daughter, had loved Celebrimbor, Feanor’s descendant--though they never married for before they were aware of their love for each other they had never known of each other's existence. Victoire had been separated from the rest of her sisters and had resided in Eregion with her guardians then; Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, who had taken her under their wing as a final tribute to her parents. It was never Galadriel that Celebrimbor loved, it was always, subconsciously even, Victoire. The only reason Laurefindel knew that was because Lady Galadriel told him herself. Victoire never died, but shortly after Sauron’s sacking of Eregion, she sailed West, in grief and in horror of the atrocities committed on Celebrimbor’s body, on her beloved land that she grew to love. Had he known to see her sooner, no force could have stopped him. Laurefindel often went sleepless, thinking of all the ways he could have comforted his daughter, and tried to ease the grief in her heart that had pierced his own so fiercely. But all these contemplations, frustratingly and disappointingly enough,were just dreams.

Primrose, their youngest, had stayed with her eldest sister in Doriath, under the rule of Dior, for a while, and at the sacking of Doriath, fled away to Cirdan, who had welcomed her with open arms. She had been the flightier of her sisters and had been the youngest, too young to remember her parents properly. But she had loved her parents nonetheless. She had fallen in love with the a captain from the Host of Valinor, a Vanya, during the War of Wrath. She had returned with him to Valinor. She was the only one of his children who hadn’t ever truly suffered any form of heartache. For that, Laurefindel was grateful. He had known about that, once again, through Galadriel. She had told him all she could about his daughters. Daughters whom he had never got to comfort and to love and to protect as properly as he should have.

His existence a second time was cruel.

Until the exact replica of his wife had barrelled down the cliff and into the water when she had been chased down by orcs. When Laurefindel had retrieved her from the shores, he almost sobbed; she was the exact same--the same tattoos, the same injuries, the same face, and that same rose-gold glow that he had always associated with her. She was the living replica, the _same_ person, save for her ears, which had been mutilated in the most terrible way, surely the previous works of orcs.

He had not let anyone else touch her, he had let her recline her limp body against him this entire time. He had wrapped her in his cloak, held her. But he didn’t dare kiss her. The possibility that this was not his wife was not otherworldly. He could never betray her like that.

His wife had been dead for four millennia, give or take. In many historical accounts, it was said that her own hand choked her--the one gifted to her by Maeglin, and in other accounts, it was said that the orcs had gotten to her and tortured her to death, impaling her to mountain walls. She had died saving the lives of the people of Gondolin and to this day, she was remembered for her valour and for being Elf-Friend. She was also remembered for being Edain, something Laurefindel always knew was not technically true.

“She is your wife,” Lord Elrond told him, once he had seated him, some fortnight after the woman-who-is-his-wife-but-couldn’t-remember it arrived to Imladris--even with the same name! “Or at least, there is a very good possibility that she might be.”

“How would you know?” Laurefindel demanded, he trusted Lord Elrond’s word but so far...everything was too confusing. It was all put together carelessly. The possibility that she actually was his wife was something he wanted to be true because four millennia without her took its toll on him.

“She may not have her memories, but her sudden appearance is far too specific to be coincidental. Having suffered the same injuries as your late wife, having the same bodily arts, and the same _...fëa_ as you put it...there is a good possibility,” Elrond shrugged and Laurefindel wanted to tear his hair out. That was the same conclusion he reached but having a wife that has been very much dead for four millennia suddenly reappearing was far too uncoincidental of an accident to be truly dismissed as just another very good doppelganger.

“We have to find a way to make her memories return,” Laurefindel snapped, leaping to his feet. “There has to be a way.”

“I can only think of one possible solution at the moment,” Lord Elrond hummed, “See as there has not been any trauma to the head--I would not want to risk giving her a concoction that might worsen her situation.”

“What is that solution?” Laurefindel demanded.

“We take her to lady Galadriel,” Lord Elrond sorted through his letters, “She might be able to help her more than I. I am afraid Vilya, though powerful, can only heal the bodily hurts.”

“What sort of healing does she need?” Laurefindel had resigned himself to the fact that she did indeed need extensive care and healing. No one was sure how she lost her memories, the ordeal was a phenomenon in itself. But the certainty was laid in the obvious, in the facts. The powerlessness to do anything drove Laurefindel to sleeplessness, and even insanity, if he was being perfectly honest.

“The sort that deals with the mind and soul--the sort that binds together the broken fragments that no medic can easily remedy,” Lord Elrond said, finally seeming to remember he needed his quill, his eyes slightly irritated, but not with Laurefindel. Irritated with the fact that such a woman, with an unexplained history but a very clear connection to an intertwining set of histories, can be so mysterious.. “However, her healing--the return of her memories--I cannot guarantee.”

“Are there any risks I should be aware of?” Laurefindel asked. He trusted the Lady Galadriel, truly he did. But he loved Elizabeth--this stranger--too much to enter into something like this blindly.

“I wouldn't know,” Lord Elrond said pensively, beginning his letter, “However, I will start a correspondence with the Lady Galadriel. I will speak to you further on this matter when I have obtained more information.”

*~*~*

He had scared her off the first time he had interacted with her--this stranger. She had looked at him, half-in awe and half-in terror. But now he knew to be more discreet in his intensity, even though it pained him to do so. So he watched her from afar as she formed a friendship with Lord Erestor. Laurefindel was slightly surprised she would form a friendship with Lord Erestor, of all elves. He was a moody elf, very specific in his tastes and often times very cool. But his vibrant wife, so sweet and warm, had no problems breaking through the shield of Lord Erestor. But for now, Lord Erestor seemed to consider her a tolerable nuisance.

He saw how much she loved to read. She would constantly borrow books from Lord Elrond’s extensive library, staying there for hours in the small chair, just reading. He loved to watch her mannerisms. The familiarity of her biting her lip, sticking her pink tongue out delicately, furrowing her shapely eyebrows, and rubbing the pages with her fingers. All these gestures were familiar to--pertaining to--Elizabeth Lane, his wife.  

She loved to take baths and never once had she commissioned a bath to be drawn for her, his sweet Elizabeth always loved the hot springs in their room, back in Gondolin. She loved the scent of lavender and chamomile. She always drew her own bath and it was no different now, he imagined. He studied er more intensely than he realized, because when he was not patrolling the borders of Imladris, he was actively seeking her out, dishonorably even, to study her and to just...re-acquaint himself with her previous habits.

Nothing has changed.

And yet, the only thing that truly did change seemed to be her love for him. It shattered Laurefindel’s heart; it made his innards feel as though they were combusting in on themselves. He wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to be with her, around her, and inside of her. He wanted to see his ring on her--but she had given away all her jewellery to her daughters. The only thing that he still kept from her was the cross necklace that she had given him, as a charm of protection. Laurefindel hadn’t needed it but he wore it as though it were a part of him. It was the only thing he never took off.

He always sat across from her at dinner times. He always watched her at dinner times and everyone seemed to understand that there was something about this woman that was extremely special to Laurefindel because no one commented on it as of yet. Besides, if they did, Laurefindel would be sure to discipline them. He watched the way she held her fork and knife in her small hands, how she chewed with her mouth closed, how her dimples kept disappearing and reappearing every time she chewed. It was like looking at his wife--except, he couldn’t touch her, speak to her, or kiss her without scaring her off. She never met his eyes, but it seemed that she knew that he was watching her because she always purposely avoided his gaze.

He couldn’t help it. He didn’t mean to cause her discomfort but he literally had no control over himself around her. He wondered to himself, did she still have the stretchmarks on her sides and belly from her pregnancies? Was she still, _indecisively_ infertile--trauma from her births? Did she still giggle in her sleep--or whimper? Did she still braid her hair before bed (even though he would always take it out)? Did she still have that little scar under her breast? Does she still, religiously, file her nails, brush her teeth, and apply sweet-smelling body cream all over her limbs before bedtime? All those little things were mannerisms that he had picked up on over the course of their short years of marriage. It was always fascinating to watch her--she never minded being watched, as long as it was only her husband who did so. He loved all those little things about her. But now, he could not truly know his wife again and that was what truly got to him.

“My Lord,” Elizabeth approached him one night when he was in the solar, the only time he was away from her and everyone else, “Why do you watch me so closely?”

He was surprised she would approach him. He had gotten the impression that he had frightened her beyond comprehension.

“I--I,” he didn’t want to explain to her all that--if she wasn’t his wife, then she wasn’t his wife. He needed her to remember that she was his wife, _on her own_. He didn’t want to force her to love him. “I don’t know.”

He knew _very_ fucking well.

“Well…” she trailed off, shifting with discomfort, wringing her fingers--the same way as his wife--as she looked about the Solarium, at anywhere but him--the same way as his wife, when she was nervous, or had to report an accident on her behalf. “That’s ok, I suppose. I don’t know anything, either.”

He realised she was trying to make an effort and if he knew his wife as well as he thinks she does, it was because she didn’t want to seem rude to him by ignoring him. She was trying to understand him and  Laurefindel was not being cooperative. But why would he? His wife was supposed to be dead and now she stands before him; unchanged but untouchable.

“Yes, well,” he cleared his throat, sitting up and shuffling to the other side of the couch, an unspoken invitation for her to take the seat if she so wished.

“May I?”she gestured to the seat, “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You are not,” Laurefindel hadn’t meant to found so fierce but that is how it came out. At her shocked expression, he composed himself once more; “Please, sit.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, quietly taking her place next to him. Laurefindel almost reached out and pulled her to his lap, as he was wont to do when he was alone with _his_ Elizabeth, but resisted. “Do you want to hear a joke?”

Laurefindel started at this, realizing that she spoke; when he looked at her, she had a tentative, lopsided smile drawn on her small but full mouth. He couldn’t find it in himself to speak so he only nodded.

“Well...what do you call a dwarf...who can speak with the dead...and has escaped from a prison?” She had an amused look in her eyes as she angeled her body towards him, hunching her shoulders as she leaned against the couch, emphasizing the shape of her delightful breasts--she was not wearing a corset. Did she not know that elves could see her from a mile out? He could see the outlines of her hard nipples through the fabric. Laurefindel forced his eyes to her face. In the darkness of night, she might not be able to see where his gaze was. But his eyes always glowed so brightly.

“I-I don’t know,” he murmured, watching as this _woman_ gave him a tentative smile before grinning.

“A small medium, at large,” she made an exploding gesture with her hands, wiggling her fingers out as she delivered the admittedly clever punchline.

Laurefindel chuckled; “I can appreciate this joke.”

“Thanks,” she told him. “But--I-I guess I’d better go now, I would like to have a proper sleep before studying under Lord Elrond tomorrow...he likes his students to be awake, you see.”

“I know that very well,” Laurefindel gave her an indulgent smile, watching as she got up, dipping into a quick curtsy, and walking away. But Laurefindel got up quickly.

“Please,” he said, undoing his cape. It was the only other one that he had for his patrols but he didn’t care at the moment--he had one more lying about, somewhere in his apartment. “Take this, it is chilly outside.”

It was different for him, but for her it may have been faintly chilly but not enough to warrant a cloak. But the only reason he offered was that she could cover up her breasts--her large, delightful, globular breasts. No one but him can _see_ those _\--know_ those.

“It really is not--” she insisted but Laurefindel was not about to let her walk out like that. She was never his to control, but she was always considerate to what he wished from her. Compromise was wonderful. But now, he wasn’t sure how she would take that.

“I insist,” he told her, wrapping it around her before she could protest. He clasped it around her neck as it was to be worn and stepped back quickly.

“Well, thank you anyways,” she shrugged, waving to him one last time and walking away, simultaneously thrilling him and disappointing him by her acceptance of the cloak.

*~*~*

“The Lady Galadriel has determined that it would be best if she meet Elizabeth for herself,” Lord Elrond told Laurefindel, studying the neatly bleached parchment with the seal of Lorien on it. “She is unsure of such a phenomenon that ails Elizabeth and she asks to meet her in person, in Lothlorien. She makes no promises, however. She has invited you along, Laurefindel, should you wish to accompany Elizabeth on her journey there.”

“I will,” Laurefindel said stiffly. This news has been long awaited and Laurefindel didn’t need to think twice about accompanying her. He couldn’t trust anyone else to devote every single active sense to her protection and comfort. He needed to do this for her.

“Should Elizabeth feel comfortable with your presence, of course,” there was reproach in Elrond’s tone that made him flush. Elrond was nearly and entire three ages younger than Laurefindel, but his wisdom and his maturity was to match. Around Elizabeth, lately, however, that has been a different case. Laurefindel felt like an elfling.

Laurefindel opened his mouth to whip a snarky remark to Elrond but swallowed his words when a timid knock sounded from the door of Lord Elrond’s study.

“Come in,” Lord Elrond called and the moment the door opened, the subtle scent of chamomile and lavender wafted to his nose and Laurefindel found himself rising to his feet, noisily.

“Oh,” Elizabeth said at Laurefindel’s abrupt rise. When Laurefindel looked at her, he saw that she was not looking at him but he could see the goosebumps on her arms, indicating that she was very aware of him.

“I have good news for you,” Lord Elrond told her, rising with more elegance that Laurefindel did, walking around his desk and towards Elizabeth; Laurefindel’s small, beautiful Elizabeth.

Elrond began explaining to her the journey that she would take to meet the Lady Galadriel in Lothlorien, who is the only person that Lord Elrond knew of who could actually help her. Lord Cirdan, for all his powers and wealth of understanding and knowledge, may not be able to help her as much as the Lady Galadriel could. The risk was that there would be either no result, or Lady Galadriel would work her skills so effectively, it might be too much for poor Elizabeth to handle. Lady Galadriel’s powers have always been on both ends of the spectrum of ‘powerful.’ The in-between would be that Elizabeth would get a vague idea of what she was in her previous, unremembered life.

Elizabeth herself took the news in stride, thanking Lord Elrond profusely; “Oh my Lord, I don’t know how I could ever repay you. I never expected you to go through such length for a lowly servant such as myself. I am forever indebted...even if it doesn’t ever work, I will always hold you and the Lady Galadriel in high regard for trying.”

Lord Elrond smiled at her, something in his eyes slightly sad, “You need not thank me. Lord Laurefindel, here, he insisted on finding a way of helping you regain your memories.”

Had it been up to Laurefindel, Elizabeth would never have known about his active efforts and correspondence alongside Elrond to try and regain her memories. But now that the news was out, there was nothing he could do to stop Elizabeth’s wide-eyed gaze on him, her bee-stung lips parting, gratitude on her face. But then again, nothing could ever sway Lord Elrond’s path set before him. He had always been determined to figure out what was wrong with Elizabeth and Lord Laurefindel was always of the same mindset. But it was a good move to curry Elizabeth’s favour for Laurefindel anyways, and set her mind at ease for the news of Laurefindel potentially being a travelling partner.

Elizabeth gave him a grateful smile, her teeth showing, white and straight. She then curtsied. It was a wonderful curtsy, the curtsy of a courtesan or a princess. No lowly servant, as she so eloquently put it in reference to herself, could ever hope to execute such an elegant curtsy. “Thank you, my Lord. I am much obliged to you.”

Laurefindel’s smile felt like marble on his face.

*~*~*

Someone had knocked on his apartment door, just moments before he was due to leave for his patrol duties. Laurefindel was never one to not answer the door, it always felt rude. Besides, he would be willing to help where he can should anyone require it, he still had a few moments left…

It was Elizabeth. She was standing there, in a demure, rose-coloured gown. In her arms was a package, neatly wrapped, soft-looking, and on top was a bundle of flowers.

“My lady,” he breathed, unable to help himself, drinking in her appearance. She looked perfect, with the sun reflecting off from her dark hair, making many shades of red and brown appear in her hair, which was slightly wet and stringy, darker. She must have just gotten out of a bath. Her hair was longer now, now that it was wet. Her curls were less tight, but still perfect.

“Oh--I’m no lady,” she gave him an indulgent smile, as though what he said was silly. It was the same smile she had on her face, so long ago, when he had told her she was not edain. To him, she was every inch a lady. In his mind, there was no doubt that this was his wife. All that was left now was for the Lady Galadriel to return her memories (or try to) so that Elizabeth can finally remember her love for Laurefindel and their beautiful daughters (whom she insisted on naming, arguing that she carried them all and birthed them all, giving her greater right over the naming aspect of parenting). To remember all those moments that they had ever had together; the painful ones and the good ones.

There was just too much hope that Laurefindel could not let slip from his grasp.

“Well...I only came to give you back your cloak...it was really comfortable and warm. Thank you,” she said, holding out the neatly wrapped package in her tiny hands. In a daze, Laurefindel accepted the package. The smell of clean chamomile and lavender wafted to his nose and he discreetly inhaled.

_So much fucking hope._

“It was a pleasure,” he murmured, setting the package aside but before he could, she stayed his hand, pulling his wrist towards her. He complied with her, dazed, as though in a dream. She took the flowers from the top of the package and gestured to him;

“May I?” she asked him shyly, gesturing to him. Laurefindel was confused.

“You may,” he said anyways. She could turn him over and push him off a cliff and he would still be compliant. But what she did was much gentler and much sweeter. She gently moved his cloak aside and tucked the flowers in his tunic, standing on her toes to reach him. Her fingers briefly touched his skin--it was enough to set his senses on fire.

“Chamomile and lavender,” she told him, not meeting his gaze but her cheeks were glowing. “They are my favourite flowers...I wanted to thank you.”

He was confused, “For what?”

“For vouching to return my memories, of course,” she told him, looking him dead in the eyes. Laurefindel nodded numbly, taking her hand and raising it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of the back of her hand. “It was so very thoughtful of you.”

He had been deprived of his wife--so perfect and virtuous--for nearly four millennia. He would be damned if he let her slip through his fingers when she was so close now. Her pulse under his touch spiked. Laurefindel suppressed a smirk, at least she was not _unaffected_ by him.

“I don’t want to keep you,” she said quickly, stepping back and quickly curtsying, quickly disappearing. Laurefindel stared after her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey to self-discovery begins.

The journey to Lady Galadriel’s domain, Lothlorien, was a small affair, so as to not attract the unwanted attention of wandering orcs or highwaymen that seemed to grow and multiply with the rapidness of unwanted pests. Those who accompanied Elizabeth were Elladan, Elrohir, Elrond’s sons who had personal business to attend to in Lorien either way. Not to mention, Laurefindel himself had volunteered (and had thankfully been accepted by Elizabeth) his services in this journey. He was mildly surprised that the twins would find the time to ever, albeit temporarily, leave their self-appointed duties of slaying orcs and dwelling with the Dunedain, protecting them, especially for the sake of the woman they never met before. Personal business in Lorien was typically a two-person trip made in at the very least seventeen days for the two peredhel.

Elrond must have been adamant in his request. But so far, they didn’t show any hostility or coolness towards Elizabeth. His sweet, shy Elizabeth. Her deformations, especially the visible ones (her stump was very difficult to miss), must have gained their favor towards her because if there was one thing they could relate to, it was their hatred for orcs, after what happened with Lady Celebrian. Laurefindel felt his face pinch at the terrible ordeal. He still remembered how the proud and stunning Lady of Imladris looked that day, unspeaking, with all her distress unreleased, until she could endure it no longer. 

“She remembers naught of her previous life,” Laurefindel quietly told them, after a lengthy explanation to the purpose of the journey. This was one late night, when they were all huddled around the small fire, Elizabeth laying a few feet from them, sleeping. Although she was not edain, her sleeping patterns were, as they have always been.

“Is that the purpose of your journey to Lothlorien?” Elrohir inquired, tossing a few twigs into the fire, “To return her memories back?”

“Yes,” Laurefindel admitted. He had always found he liked the twins, they were trustworthy comrades in battle, and their penchant for killing orcs was both deadly, enthusiastic, and elegant, something Laurefindel greatly admired about them.

“That is a lot of trouble you are going through for a woman you do not know,” Elladan commented casually.

“You need not have come,” Glorfinel said testily.

“Peace, brother,” Elrohir said placatingly, shooting a dark look to his twin, who looked unabashed. 

“I know her,” Laurefindel said, keeping his voice level, “I have always known her. She--she is my wife, I think.”

“You 

?” Elladan said wryly, “Why do you think? Are you second-guessing yourself?”

Where another time he would find their cynicalness amusing, he did not find it so now.

“I cannot be sure, without her memories. She is...the living form of my wife. The exact same person in every aspect, save for her memories. I cannot be completely sure without her memories,” Laurefindel murmured, speaking more to himself. He was spilling his thoughts aloud.

“I read about her,” Elrohir put in, “She was the one who led an entire army during Nirnaeth Aeroniad.”

“She did, she died saving the people of Gondolin,” Laurefindel acknowledged, his heart tightening at all those unpleasant memories. Elizabeth of the House of the Golden flower, the only ordinary person to go down in history for amassing an entire army of legendary Queens into the most devastating war of Beleriand. 

“I read she died choking on her own hand,” Elladan said grimly, “Crafted by Maeglin the Betrayer, was it not?”

“It was so,” Laurefindel acknowledged, his fists clenching, he could feel the fury boiling underneath. Maeglin, the spawn of that filthy dark-elf. In the end, nothing pure of Lady Aredhel could have survived in such darkness and that made it all the more devastating. “Similar markings on her neck were found when she first woke up with the edain.”

“

,” Elrohir hummed, “She is elf-friend.”

“She is,” Laurefindel agreed, his heart tightening at the recollection of her starry, surprised eyes when she received the honor from King Turgon. “She was never meant to die so cruelly, or at all...she was always meant to be full of life.”

The three remained silent for the rest of the night.

*~*~*

The road seemed to stretch for several days. It was always clear and safe. But that never meant that he would ever keep his guard down. He always watched Elizabeth closely. The period of her absence--when he thought she was dead--were the worst days of his life. The only thing that had kept him from fading was his sweet Ophelia and his hatred for orcs--which he channeled into battle. He had failed to protect her and he had rued his neglect dearly. He would not make the same mistake twice. He always made sure she was surrounded, in the middle, by all the men in her company. 

Even when she needed to relieve herself or change or do any such things, Laurefindel would be but a mere few feet from her. Enough to give her privacy but also listen for her screams. Elladan and Elrohir were perhaps not as focused on her so much as their surroundings. Whereas Laurefindel’s attention was based purely on Elizabeth’s wellbeing and surroundings,  Elladan and Elrohir listened for the entirety of their surroundings.

She was significantly less skittish around Laurefindel now than she had been when she had first come here, unceremoniously. She even preferred to ride next to him rather than with the twins, who were perhaps better suited as friends for her (Laurefindel always felt tongue-tied around her). She never really talked though. Perhaps she was shy to do so in such a small company. 

“My Lord,” she had approached him at one point, wringing her hands nervously. Laurefindel immediately set aside the sleeping mat that he was setting for himself so that he may lay in it for the night.

“Yes, my Lady?” he asked her gently, hoping to put her at ease. She gave him a shy smile.

“It gets a little chilly at night,” she told him, clearing her throat and blushing, “Would you mind if I borrowed an extra blanket? I should have packed one--I know I was silly. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to--”

“I would,” Laurefindel cut her off, feeling great regret, “But I do not get cold as easily as you do. I did not think to pack an extra blanket.”

“Oh,” her shoulders sagged but then her smile returned, “Thank you anyways.”

She turned to walk away and before she did, Laurefindel blurted the first thing that came to mind; “You may share my mat if you so wish...I mean, I’m sure I can try to keep you warm--”

That did not come out as he intended, he sounded like a blubbering drunkard. But it was clear that Elizabeth didn’t think so. She smiled appreciatively at him and Laurefindel swallowed the bile in his throat.

“With my body heat,” he elaborated, “I mean.”

“Wouldn’t that be breaking like...thirty rules of propriety or something?” her familiar mischievous streak resurfaced. In another life, she was always evading Lady Aeronid’s lessons on propriety.

“Probably,” Laurefindel couldn’t help but smile, “But it is different in the wilderness when we do not have our usual comforts within the boundaries of propriety.”

“Well,” she contemplated it, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

Laurefindel’s heart was soaring. A chance to touch her...to hold her. Perhaps his inability to articulate himself properly got him somewhere with her.

*~*~*

That night, Laurefindel’s nerves were frizzled for everything to be perfect. He couldn’t simply rely on pure chance that she would like her night’s sleep in Laurefindel’s mat. So Laurefindel had made sure to lay out the mat perfectly, to make sure the pillow was soft but there was only so much he could do for her comfort.

But when the time came, she didn’t complain. She simply sat on her side of the mat, pulled her cover over herself, and watched him patiently as he looked for the courage to come and lay down next to her.  He did everything first--spoke to the twins, stoked the fire, did his business, fed and watered the horses, and even changed his tunic--before he finally decided to come and settle down next to the woman who awaited him so patiently. 

By then she had fallen asleep. But it was better that way. Besides, Laurefindel told himself fiercely, this Elizabeth technically had no business waiting up for him. But the Elizabeth that he once knew would often wait up for him, her warm embrace readily available for him, at any time in the night. This Elizabeth, even on the narrow sleeping mat, had left a respectable distance for Laurefindel’s wide body. 

Laurefindel closed his eyes. In the morning, he would wake up, probably to her cries of indignation at having Laurefindel wrapped around her like a leech-like octopus, something that Laurefindel was not ready to be subject to.

And yet, he still woke up with her in his arms. He had to forced away his tears at the familiarity of holding her. But just as quickly as he woke up he let go, against his wishes.

*~*~*

There was always something to do on their journey other than just traveling. Elizabeth always took up the job of collecting herbs to give to their meals (which Elladan often cooked--Laurefindel would never openly admit it but his food tasted like charcoal). Elrohir hunted, sometimes Elladan joined him, and Laurefindel stood watch, diligent. When it was only Elizabeth and him alone at camp, he stayed as far away from her as possible, watching her, waiting for her facade to drop. For her, gruesomely enough, to take off the face of his beloved and reveal a hideous creature beneath. But that never happened; she still stayed the same. Still small and curvy, still bearing the markings of her suffering, and still shy. 

When entering the Golden Wood, Elizabeth took in her surroundings with awe. It truly was a sight to behold. The trunks of the trees were silvery white, and the leaves fell, one side orange, and the other silver. The view was harmonious.

“I read about those trees,” she breathed, “I read that the Lady Galadriel planted them in remembrance of her beloved Doriath--oh imagine living in a place like this--would you ever get tired of all this starlight?”

Her voice was breathy, her eyes were bright, and she seemed to take in everything but everything was not enough. Laurefindel couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised--his wife, ever the scholar. She was never a person whose vices outweighed her virtues; but if there was one thing she was always greedy for, it was knowledge of life--the sciences, the practicalities, the languages, the books--all of it. Whenever someone complimented her knowledge, her eyes would get glassy with emotion and it was no different now.

“Yes,” he murmured patiently, unable to stop staring at her, “If I did not have--”

He stopped himself before he said anything else. From his peripheral vision, he could see Elladan shoot Laurefindel a half-pitying and half-curious look; as though he knew what the elf-lord was going to say.

Elizabeth turned to him curiously but when she realized he was not going to say anything else, she turned away, her face downturned now. 

“Halt,” it was a voice from the trees, everyone brought all their horses to a stop. Although, with Elizabeth, who was never the best equestrian, wasn’t able to get her horse to stop all at once. So her horse trotted a little longer before Elizabeth finally pulled on the reins with her one hand. Ahh...the infamous wardens of Lothlorien. 

And then three wardens appeared before them, but Laurefindel knew that there had to be at least twenty more hiding in the shadow of their trees. He could feel their presence, could sense their fea, you even hear them in the trees, with great difficulty. Laurefindel recognized Haldir; tall, silver, and imposing with a face that deserved more than a passing glance--Captain of the Guard.

“Greetings, Haldir of Lorien,” Elrohir called, jumping down from his horse and putting a hand to his chest, bowing. The rest followed suit although Elizabeth was a little bit clumsier in getting down on her own. Laurefindel was beside her the moment he dismounted, his hands at her waist and pulling her off the horse. 

“Thank you,” she told him, not looking at him but instead, turning to the three wardens, who watched her curiously, wearily, glancing at Laurefindel.

“We were informed to expect you,” Haldir told them, turning to Elrohir, “Your sister awaits your arrival eagerly, my lord.”

“It has been a while,” Elrohir admitted, clasping forearms, formally, with the marchwarden. They were unsmiling but there was clear respect for the other. Elladan was next to pay the same respect to the marchwarden and Laurefindel was last, speaking the appropriate greeting. 

“Come, it is a day’s walk to Lothlorien--it will be speedier on foot. Your horses will be well-cared for,” Haldir promised them, gesturing with his fingers, and two more wardens stepped out of the shadows, handling the reigns from the outsiders.

“You have our gratitude,” Elrohir said, inclining his head.

“However, I will have to ask that your, ah, companion, be blindfolded,” Haldir said, gesturing to Elizabeth, and Laurefindel’s mouth soured.

“Oh,” Elizabeth whimpered in dejection. SHe must have been really excited to look at the scenery. Laurefindel felt annoyed for her.

“She is a guest of the Lady Galadriel,” Elladan said tartly, “There is no reason for her to be blindfolded.”

“She is not an elf,” Haldir said calmly, his stance rigid, unyielding. “We do not let man through our borders--”

“She is not edain,” Laurefindel insisted, wishing he could gently pull Elizabeth’s hair away to show her ears--which were not there, unfortunately. But he could never do that to her--expose her as a spectacle. Besides she always kept her hair down to cover her face, her ears. There was nothing to tuck her hair away with. She preferred it that way.

“Nevertheless,” Haldir insisted, “I cannot allow it.”

“What say the Lady Galadriel of this?” Elrohir questioned Haldir.

“She has not spoken of the matter--she understands the law and makes no exceptions, not even to guests,” Laurefindel had to concede. Lorien did not have its inflamed impenetrability for no reason. Half the effort was simply the Lady Galadriel’s protection, and the rest were the marchwardens. Laurefindel can understand duty, it would be hypocritical and silly of him to keep arguing so fruitlessly and so foolishly.

“Very well then,” Elizabeth’s voice said quietly from behind them. Laurefindel turned to her and saw that she had a small, reassuring smile on her face. “But I do not have a blindfold.”

“Worry not, my Lady,” Haldir told her respectfully, pinning a squirming Elizabeth with his hawkish, intimidating gaze. “We will provide you with one and one of my marchwardens will guide you.”

“There is no need for that,” Laurefindel said sharply, unable to stomach the thought of another ellon touching her even though he couldn't bring himself to properly touch her. “I will lead her myself.”

“Very well then,” Haldir said and another marchwarden appeared from the shadows, handing him a silver strip of cloth. Haldir stepped forward and barely spared Laurefindel a glance as he gently tied the blindfold over Elizabeth’s head, somehow managing through her curls.

“Thank you,” she said quietly and Laurefindel didn’t hear her speak again.

*~*~*

Haldir did not exaggerate, the journey was a day long but Elladan and Elrohir seemed very accustomed to it.  Laurefindel himself did not mind it, he enjoyed it, and he secretly felt guilty for enjoying the scenery so. It was better for Elizabeth as opposed to horse riding because he knew that it chafed the inside of her thighs. His dear Elizabeth, however, was not. A little ways before the end of their journey, Laurefindel saw that she began to limp. He resisted the urge to scoop her up and carry her. But he didn’t think she would appreciate him treating her like a helpless maiden so publically--it was undignified and Laurefindel acknowledged that.

However, once they reached the talans, it was then that carrying her became inevitable. Her one hand could only get her so far.

“My lady,” Laurefindel bent down to her level, speaking to her, quietly. “We must climb now. Would you mind to hold on to me so that I may carry you up?”

She shook her head and Laurefindel saw that her cheeks were bright red; “Am I able to scale it on my own?”

Laurefindel studied the tree. There were holder ladders on the trees. Laurefindel can easily scale them, but he wasn’t sure Elizabeth had the fingers to be able to grip them without slipping. In theory, even with one hand, she might be able to, but Elizabeth had neither the strength nor the agility to do that, very few like her could. Laurefindel himself didn’t need the ladder and it was more enjoyable for him to use the branches.

“You might,” Laurefindel admitted, holding her hand and guiding her to a ladder step, “Will you be able to keep a grip on this sort of ladders? There are forty five such ahead of you.” 

“You counted,” there was mild amusement in her tone, a twitch her of beestung lips, that she kept licking nervously. 

“Yea, I don’t think I can with one hand,” She giggled shyly, “ That was silly of me. Does the offer to carry me up still stand?”

“Yes,” Laurefindel said automatically. She had a nervous tremble to her fingers as she allowed Laurefindel to guide her hand on his back and. Slowly, Laurefindel maneuvered Elizabeth so that she was wrapped around him, her warmth nearly scorching his back. It felt a lot better that Laurefindel thought it would feel and the pleasure of it nearly made him lose focus. After briefly composing himself under the weight of the Perdhels’ critical sniggers, Laurefindel began the process of simultaneously climbing the tree and balancing Elizabeth on his back.

The talan where they would rest a moderate space. There was no luxury for the ranks, not even for the grandsons of the Lord and Lady of Lorien, so far from the heart of the city. However, sleeping out in the open with three men for company was different than in an actual room, and Elizabeth seemed to be thinking very hard about something, presumably about how to politely ask for a seperate talan without seeming too snobby or without inconveniencing anyone, if Laurefindel knew her as well as he thought he did.

“May I take the blindfold off now, Captain?” Elizabeth asked timidly and Haldir looked her over once. Laurefindel could see his gaze lingering on all the places where memory-long injuries were visible, even the injuries that were not easily visible to the eye. Laurefindel hadn’t realized his teeth were pressed against each other until he forced the ache in his jaw to relax.

“You may,” he finally said and Elizabeth eagerly took it off. Rubbing her eyes. He could see red lines around her eyes were it creased against her skin. Otherwise, she was relatively well, if insanely fatigued.

“Thank you,” she said. Haldir dipped his head and exited the talan, briefly, without extending any further, unnecessary contact with Elizabeth or Laurefindel. Laurefindel heard word of this Silvan elf’s skill and leadership in battle and war alike. 

“Come, this is where you will rest,” Elladan told Elizabeth, distracting Laurefindel from his criticizing thoughts of the Marchwarden, patting the mat he had set up for her the moment they arrived to the talan. 

“You set it up,” she seemed surprised, her eyes shining with with abashed gratitude. “Thank you , my Lord.”

“It was no bother,” Elladan dismissed, rising to his feet elegantly, rolling his shoulders, presumably to soothe an ache. “Your pack is in the corner. Freshen up and then come join us for something to eat. After you may rest.”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said once more and Laurefindel realised she was exhausted. Extremely so. It would be a miracle if she didn't pass out.

He gritted his teeth, wishing he had the same influence over her as an official husband status did, that way, she can do whatever she wanted freely and without reproach. Then he would allow her to rest all she wanted, after he had helped her with whatever she needed. He didn’t want to scare her off with him assuming such an intimate role in her life.

His heart clenched at her tired little smile. 

  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything slowly begins to come into place.

I was told that I was allowed to use the communal baths for the females. Thankfully there were not many women around. It would be uncomfortable to have such a mutilated body in the presence of such perfection. But I had long accepted the fact that my ugliness was just a part of me, I even scor it, sometimes. So I just didn’t need other people to scorn it as well.

First I soaped up and cleaned my hair with some sweet smelling soap and oil that I found, that I was sure was given to me because there was a small, lonely basket with my alias;  _ ‘Elizabeth _ ,’ scrawled neatly in Westron. I appreciated the gesture from these Sindarin elves. Surely Westron was not their first language. Eventually, I began actually  washing myself, sensing that I didn’t have the luxury of time before I became too tired to comprehend anything that happened around me. But my movements were inevitably lethargic because everything felt so good, I felt like I was swaddled in a cocoon of milk and honey. My thighs had chafed from all the walking I had ever done and my bum was sore from riding the horse all those many days. My feet were another matter on their own, blisters numbered themselves on the sole of my foot. I could barely move and the only ointment I had with me was hot water. It was enough for now.

After a  quick wash and soak, I took out a clean, extra dress that I had and put it on. It was a demure blue dress and now that my hair was washed and combed, it looked flattering on me. I walked back to my talan, taking one of the suspended bridges. By the time I arrived, the talan was empty. I frowned. Where were they? Perhaps they were off to take baths of their own. 

“My Lady,” Haldir’s voice. I quickly turned around, my heart pounding. Elves were light on their feet. I didn’t hear this man move. Why was I so surprised. Usually in Imladris the elves who knew me took the precaution to stomp a little. “You are expected.”

“Oh,” my stump, out of reflex, came up to my hair and when I realised I had no hand to pat my hair down, I quickly dropped my hand, feeling embarrassed. It always happened. “Thank you.”

Captain Haldir’s eyes followed the movements of my stump, which made me squirm with discomfort. I hurriedly wiggled the sleeve over my stump so that it hid it from his gaze, from the presence of the perfection standing before me.

“I shall escort you,” he told me, turning away and walking quickly. I followed him, he was slow for me but I had the impression that that was not his normal pace. We were up in the air, the trees around me were silver and gold and all I could feel was a cool breeze, picking up and making my hair dance. With my good hand, I tried to pat it down, eventually throwing it over one shoulder. My curls were too thick to be of any cooperation right now. It will be even worse once it dries.

When we reached our destination, I saw all three of my companions standing before a tall, handsome couple. I felt my heart fly to my throat in awe. 

The man next to the woman had silver hair, like pure silver. It was a color that was more uncommon than many thought. Only the Sindarin Kings had silver hair that gleamed like dwarven silver. Not the commoners, or so Lord Erestor told me, with a wry smile twitching at his lips. Even Haldir, when I thought about it, didn’t have silver hair, but a blonder variation of it. This man’s skin was tan, which was a striking contrast against his silver colouring. His eyes were a vibrant green and his body was powerfully built, emphasized even further by his height. His features were romanesque and he was handsome. A sharp perceptiveness was flickering in his gaze as he studied me, making me squirm. I looked over to the woman.

The woman next to the man was gorgeous. However, her hair was the only feature that stood out to me. It was silver and gold, shining magnificently, even in the dark. It was the most beautiful hair that I have ever seen and it looked like the sun and the moon had an offspring together. Her skin was pale like snow, her eyes were blue like the clear waters of Lord Elrond’s lakes. She was so tall that she seemed to me like a goddess. When she smiled at one of her grandsons, her smile was special. As if that smile was unique only to this particular grandson, and there was no better feeling, surely, than to see someone having a special smile just for you. And yet there was something about her that made me incredibly sad. 

Then her eyes turned to me, piercing me with her gaze and immediately, I knew who she was. She was the Lady Galadriel, Artanis. The man surely her Lord husband; Lord Celeborn Teleporono, the former prince of Doriath. Lady Galadriel’s hair was the catalyst to all the events that happened in the First Age and before that. She was the protector and the shield-maiden of Middle Earth. She was magnificent. 

_ You have travelled far, _ she told me. But then I realised her beautiful mouth didn’t move. I faltered in my step, almost tripping over my feet in alarm. All of my companions turned to me and I flushed. Did no one hear that?

“Yes,” I said dumbly, glancing at all the rest to see if I was the only one who surely heard that. Elladan raised a cynical, questioning brow. But something in his gaze was knowing. The twitch on his lips was surely knowing. 

“Lord Elrond spoke to me of you in our correspondence,” Lady Galadriel told me, this time her mouth moving. I faltered to a stop, a nervous smile playing on my lips. 

“Oh, well...all good things, I hope,” I gave her a hesitant smile before curtsying, as elegantly as I could, with my mutilated hand tucked behind me and my good one holding my skirt as was proper. It was my own variation of a curtsy that I had perfected over the weeks with Lord Erestor and Lord Lindir, my dance partner and music teacher. “It is an honour to meet you,” This was directed at both the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien.

“Well met, Elizabeth Lane,” Lady Galadriel murmured and my head shot up, confused. I know that name...Elizabeth Lane was one of the best translators of the First Age; she kept the most meticulous record of everything that ever happened in Gondolin. Her texts survived to this day and many translators today held her text as a standard of excellence. But what did her name have to do with me? Other than the fact that we share the same first names, mine being more of an alias, instead of Lolita.

“Oh...um, my name is only Elizabeth,” This was awkward, I could feel everyone’s eyes on me now. Everyone was looking at me, they didn’t need to. Maybe my breathing was too loud?

“Elizabeth Lane,” Lady Galadriel agreed airily, her voice booking no room for argument. So instead, I just nodded. Best to move along with it. 

“We will have to depart soon, grandmother,” Elrohir said, bowing, “We shall leave you, Elizabeth, in Lady Galadriel’s care.”

“All of you?” I squeaked, alarmed that they would leave me alone in this strange but beautiful place.

“I am afraid duty calls,” Glorfindel told me, giving me a grim smile, “And I must not say no.”

Something about those words made me blink at him blankly, because they sounded familiar. Instead of dwelling on it, I nodded. “Oh well...goodbye then.”

I was not in any position to ask of them to stay. They were simply my escorts. I was just another foundling. But I knew them and I didn’t know anyone here. I wasn’t sure if the Lady Galadriel was interested in sharing embroidery patterns with me. The thought of that made me mentally giggle to myself.

“We will rest for three days,” Elladan declared, “Then we shall return.”

“That is good,” I nodded grimly, the words feeling tasteless in my mouth as I looked to Glorfindel, who remained expressionless. It was strange. Before, when I first met him, he was frantic and expressive. But now, he was cool and distant. 

Both extremes had my head reeling. 

*~*~*

For three days, I literally did nothing aside from sleeping, eating, and occasionally attending to my personal business. But I also spoke to and laughed with Lord Elrond’s sons, who, when they were not so alert, were actually very enjoyable conversational partners. But Glorfindel remained distant, watching me, his eyes glassy and wistful. When I tried approaching him, he moved away from me or simply did not speak to me. It was strange because he never acted that way before. He only began acting so when Lady Galadriel called me ‘Elizabeth Lane.’

But how was that name significant to him? I couldn’t have ever known him before, could I? But I couldn’t think about that, once they leave, I will know everything.

*~*~*

“Why do you call me Elizabeth Lane?” I asked the Lady Galadriel, a week after my companions departed. We were sitting in her personal gardens, both of us kneeling and helping one another plant little flower seedlings. I was certain that the Lady Galadriel did not need help with something like that but it felt nice so I wasn’t about to complain.

Lady Galadriel watched me, her eyes grim. “That is your name.”

“How do you know?”

“There is a void in your memories,” she patiently explained to me, uprooting a little piece of weed. “Albeit a salvageable one. I see snippets of it.”

“I read about your abilities,” I was in awe, my mind distracted from my hands.“You read minds, don’t you?”

“Osonwë,” she corrected, “It is not quite that...but I suppose you can call it that. Have you ever read this book?”

From the folds of her dress, she brought forth a leather-bound book, green with flowers framing it. It was beautiful.

“No,” I shook my head regretfully, “What is it?”

“ _ Peace in Our Time _ ,” she murmured, “It is a beautiful book, written by the former Queen of Greenwood the Great. It speaks of her childhood; of the love shared between her parents. Of what they face together, even in times of war.”

“Doesn’t sound very peaceful,” I observed. Observing the book and accepting it from her after taking off the gardening gloves that I was allowed to borrow.

“No, but it speaks of a great power, that not even I can comprehend,” Lady Galadriel hummed, handing me the book, “It speaks of love.”

“Do you not love your lord husband?” I was confused, how can she not comprehend love if she already had it?

“I love him,” Lady Galadriel said, “But the love that is speak of in this book...this love was in the war, enduring through the ages. It had endured many hardships. Us Noldor, we do not love in times of war.”

“But you are Noldor too, are you not?” I was confused, “You loved your husband in times of war as well--”

“I was in a place where there was no war, I loved my husband dearly. We did not marry until after the War of Wrath so long ago, with the blessings of my father, despite what the accounts say. He has waited for me patiently. That is love also. It is powerful, but I can understand it. The love in this book, however, many struggle to understand it.”

“Oh,” I looked at the book in my hands. “I’ll read it.” There were not many romances in Lord Elrond’s library and I found that I was tempted by this book. I loved romance. It was a good substitute for what I will never have.

“Good,” Lady Galadriel said, “It is imperative that you do before we ever think of beginning to bring back your memories.”

She didn’t elaborate any further. I would soon get used to her vague replies and inferences.

Reading the book was confusing. The name Elizabeth Lane kept appearing, the name of the actual protagonist. Her actual past was left unmentioned other than the fact that she had been raised by elves from the far East, and had been tortured by humans--her arrival in Gondolin was but a mere miracle. The ellon who loved her was Lord Glorfindel and when I got to the end, I realised it was the same Lord Glorfindel who escorted me. He had a wife, whom he loved dearly, but had died so cruelly. I felt a certain amount of empathy for Lord Glorfindel, who, despite his strange habits, did not deserve to live like this. 

“Well…I suppose I pity them,” I told Lady Galadriel honestly when she asked me about the book, “I feel so sorry for them, they didn’t have the happy ending they deserved. Lady Elizabeth was so very clever and Lord Glorfindel was such a good husband to her. No one deserves to live without the ones they love.”

Lady Galadriel studied me pensively, something along the lines of disappointment making her eyes slanted. I blushed with shame. Did she expect a more philosophical outlook on the book?

“Elizabeth Lane in this book is you,” Lady Galadriel finally said. 

My world came crashing down.

*~*~*

For many days, I looked into the Lady Galadriel’s pensive, watching all the memories of my supposed past play out before my eyes.

_ A small girl, chubby and fresh-faced, running and holding out a paper with a colourful star on it. _

_ The same girl, a little older, twirling in a short, pink dress. _

_ The same girl, a little older giggling with a flock of girls her age. _

_ Me, now, the same girl, I realised, walking with a rugged man who faintly reminded me of Haroc, my dress almost falling apart on me. _

_ Me speaking and laughing with a very short and very old man, with disproportionately large feet, two little hedgehogs nested between them on the table.  _

_ Me, speaking to a tall elf with dark hair and piercing green eyes, the seal of Mirkwood on his collar. _

_ Me, kneeling before a throne room, a beautiful woman with bare breasts and black eyes sitting on the throne, queenly and regal. My back had many whip marks on it, bleeding all over. _

_ Me, in a beautiful red dress, gold in my hair and suspended over a pit of molten rock--and falling. _

_ Me, standing in a shapeless brown dress, before twelve Lords. Lord Glorfindel sheared my hair. _

_ Me, sitting with a Noldo-ellon, Lord Relos, pouring over large tomes, my hair short. Me, sewing beside a Noldo-elleth, Lady Aeronid, smiling. Me, speaking to a gorgeous golden-haired woman who faintly resembled Lady Galadriel. _

_ Lord Glorfindel and I, standing in the middle of the snow, trees all around us and a hemlock plant behind me--he leaned down and kissed me. _

_ Me, standing before a tall King with golden braids in his black hair, beside him a mortal man amongst a congress of elves. _

_ Lord Glorfindel kissing me in a glittering cave, while I was robed in a sheer white dress. _

_ Lord Glorfindel, kissing me underwater, both of us naked but pressed against eachother. _

_ Lord Glorfindel, waking me up, lovingly kissing me. _

_ Me, pregnant, bending over and upchucking the remnants of my meal I was naked but my garvid belly was heavily bruised. Lord Glorfindel was a few paces behind me, his face alarmed and somewhat terrified, his hand reaching out to me as though to try and comfort me.  _

_ Me, giving birth, but I was losing consciousness. The Noldo-ellon was telling me something, his face alarmed but I didn’t hear him. _

_ Me, holding a beautiful baby in my arms, peppering kisses all over her beautiful face. Lord Glorfindel watched her over my shoulder while kissing it, his hand stroking the baby’s head.  _

_ Me, standing before the same Noldo King with gold in his braids; glaring at him defiantly. _

_ Me, riding in leggings, putting the baby--my baby--in the hollow of a tree and running away--goblins cutting off my arm. _

_ Me standing with a black Queen in a golden dress...running through a mountain pass on a jaguar. My arm was missing. _

_ Queen Malu kissing me on the lips, with an affectionate smile on her face before the Sons of Feanor.  _

_ A tall, red-haired Elf-lord, Lord Maedhros,  carrying me into a tent. Me, in a tent with Lord Glorfindel and my baby, all in one embrace… _

_ A Noldo-king, giving me a beautiful pearl necklace, his mouth opening ‘elf-friend’ he seemed to say. _

_ Me, giving birth to another baby. _

_ A Noldo-ellon giving me a large box-present, a metal arm in it. _

_ Me, lovingly staring at my baby, my eyes watering love and regret at the same time.  _

_ Me staring at my flat belly sadly, rubbing what would never be again. _

_ Me, creating a beautiful garden...three little girls twirling around me, all of them golden-haired and gorgeous, coming up to me and pressing kisses to my cheek. _

_ My eyes, wide with alarm, shouting at the elves to hurry though the dark tunnel.  _

_ The metal arm attached to me...choking me before the goblins got to me and sliced off my ears. _

All of those memories were mine. Not all of them were great but they were mine and they explained everything. All the memories I ever had--the explanation to fill the void in my mind. 

For many days afterwards, I stayed locked in my talan, not even going out to eat. My mind was still trying to comprehend. It explained everything and suddenly--Glorfindel’s odd behaviour made sense.

He called me his ‘sweet wife’ the moment I woke up in this world. He loved me, he was my husband and we had three daughters together. He...defined my life; him and all the people I have ever interacted with. 

Life...and hope...and love...family. I had that, and I had it so beautifully. Why did I lose it so heartlessly?

_ Love in Times of War. _ My eyes watered. I wanted those memories. I wished I could remember them, know all the words--the conversations. I wanted those memories to feel as though they were mine. I wanted Lord Glorfindel to love me again as he did and to not coldly disregard me. I wanted to hold my daughters and love them and kiss them. I wanted to meet all those people who ever helped me and saved me. I wanted all of this. It was ludicrous but I wanted the pain.

I didn’t want to return to a life--now that I know myself--to that brothel, where I had no ambition and was a pitiful creature. I wanted to be loved despite my disfigurations, skin color, and weight. I wanted to be Elizabeth Lane; the greatest translator of the First Age, Elf-Friend, wife, daughter, and at one point, shield-maiden. I wanted all of it. 

But how can it all fall back into place after all this time? I could never do that to Glorfindel, I could never bind him to me now that he made a life of his own, his own name, his own wealth. I cannot come and hinder all that. That would be horrible and selfish of me. 

His love could not have endured for so long.

But now my heart was pounding with love for him; love and regret.

I could never do that to him.

*~*~*

“I would like to go back,” I finally told Lady Galadriel one day, after I had made myself presentable. 

“To Imladris?” Lady Galadriel asked me gently and I shook my head.

“I could never,” I admitted to her, my truth spilling out, “I would rather relive my torture.”

“Why would you say such a thing?” Lady Galadriel asked me, holding my hand and leading me to a bench. Her frown was deep and her contemplation was even deeper and I didn’t blame her. Why would I want to return to my previous way of living in that brothel?

“Because...life has moved on without me,” I told her honestly, wiping away my tears, the words feeling like ashes in my mouth. I could see my happiness fading away. My world had turned dark.

“Is that what you think?” Lady Galadriel asked me cynically. I looked at her, expecting some form of understanding but all I could see was heavy disapproval.

“Yes,” I told her flatly, “He has made a name for himself, my daughters have all departed to Valinor--they have lived their lives. I--I cannot expect my life to start where it has stopped.”

My voice felt heavy in my throat and my eyes threatened to fill up with tears. 

“That may be true,” Lady Galadriel acknowledged, “But it is not your place to decide what is best for Lord Glorfindel, for the ones who love you.”

“It is not,” I agreed, “But...I cannot be so selfish--he might love another-- and how could I stop him?”

“He will never love another,” Lady Galadriel said and I looked up at her, for the first time since our conversation commenced, fully into her eyes. 

“How do you know that?” I asked her incredulously, trying to imagine what made her so sure about his mental disposition. Sure she was able to look into the mind...but that was a very dubious thing to say.

“He waited four thousand years for you, even when he thought there was no hope,” Lady Galadriel told me, “Even for the First Born, that is a long time.”

“That doesn’t guarantee anything,” I said dismissively. “I cannot...I must return to the edain.”

“Return to where you have no hope nor future?” Lady Galadriel was chilly now, “Return to where you cleaned bedsheets for a brothel and fished for half-chewed shillings?”

I flushed because when it came out of her mouth, she made me sound disgusting. I probably was but did she not understand?

“I-I never had any hope or future then and I don’t have any now,” I snapped, “It won’t make a difference whether or not I will stay. I have overstayed my welcome. I would rather work than depend on others charity.”

“You can have a future,” Lady Galadriel insisted. 

“Do you not see me?” For all her age and wisdom, her naivety astounded me. “I am...coloured and disfigured. I cannot imagine how my husband loved me all those years.”

“He loved you nonetheless,” Lady Galadriel told me, her voice steely, “He still does. Furthermore, he does not see things as all the rest us see things.”

I frowned at her; “What do you mean?”

“He never saw you for your beauty--though he was greatly affected by it,” she told me, leaning back and studying me. “He saw you for what no one else ever could...the light inside you that shines so brightly. You are meant to be his, you are meant to love him and be loved by him. Do you not see? His greatest gift--he found in his one true love; you. His gift was never his endurance or foresight. It was always in your light. Any other whom he might feel a semblance of affection for will fall short in comparison and he would never degrade neither himself nor you in such a manner.”

I couldn’t help it, tears free falling from my eyes. What she said; it felt and sounded right. It was familiar and I realised that all those years that we spent together--in love--I was never afraid that he would love another because he saw in me what no one else could. He loved what he saw and what he felt.

I shuddered and looked away. Now this new piece of revelation complicated things all over again. But I suppose it was always there, somehow.

“Do not over think your course,” Lady Galadriel chided me, “Stoicism and putting others happiness before yours will not benefit anyone. You do not know what will make others happy. But one thing you can be certain of; what makes you happy will make your husband even happier.”

“I want to go home,” I whispered, not speaking of the Edain. My home was my happiness, embodied in the form of the Golden Lord and my family, my gorgeous daughters, where ever they are. 

She smiled at me, finally. “Good choice.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dum dum dum dum dum dum da da daaa! The long-awaited reunion!

For many days after my great revelation about my life, I spent them in Lothlorien, learning everything I could. Everything up to my death--I was an endless void, waiting to be filled with information. My husband was reborn again, nearly some four thousand years past. But the theory was that he had been waiting in the halls of Mandos even longer. Did he suffer there as well?

I stitched together some of the fabric I managed to buy with the allowance that I had saved up from Lord Elrond’s generosity, and make with it a dress. This dress had to be perfect. It had to be perfect for Glorfindel.

In my time here, I finally met Arwen Evenstar. She was the woman in my early memories, before my arrival to the first age. She was younger than my memories, but no less beautiful. She was less reserved than I remembered her, less contemplative, more flirtatious. She was as kind as her Lord Father and she was just as insightful. She didn’t know me yet--but in another life, she did. In another life, she was like a sister to me. But Lady Galadriel warned me of revealing such memories to anyone. Already, I was an oddity, even to Lady Galadriel herself. She took it well in stride so I didn’t mind.

“I do not understand how you were able to travel through time upon every moment of your death,” Lady Galadriel told me contemplatively, “But what I do not understand, will be feared by those who are less open-minded than I. Do not take the risk, keep it to yourself. Only your husband need know what he already knows.”

“So I don’t tell Lord Elrond that I know him, from a distant future?” I frowned, feeling a little traitorous at the thought of not telling him anything.

“The cycle of your time has been broken,” Lady Galadriel told me, “You will never appear again in the future or in the past. Your time does not run in a circle as mine or Lord Elrond’s does--or even Lord Glorfindel’s. Your time is now.”

Those words held a certain feeling of finality, the implication that if I were to die in this life, I would be reborn again, in another time, a different time. I would die, over and over again, but never come back again to the same time.

My time did not run in circles or in forwardness as theirs did. It never went consistently forward. I jumped from the future to the distant past and then to the near past--it didn’t make sense to put in words, but it made perfect sense.

My time was now.

“At the unlikely event of your death in this age,” Lady Galadriel told me, “You will reborn again--as it was every other time you died. But you will never be born in the same time or in a time you have already lived through.”

“How do you know all this?” I asked her, awed and horrified by these revelations.

“I simply do,” Lady Galadriel shrugged, “Nenya--my ring--gives me great insight. Your existence is unique--unpredictable, even. But that does not mean you cannot stay at one time forever and move forward with your life. You simply have to avoid dying unnaturally.”

That sounded easy enough to do.

I nodded. I was getting sick of being killed and waking up in a strange time. I didn’t remember all of it but I wished I had my memories with me. I wished my life was not so confusing. I wanted stability and I wanted it with my family.

“I want to go back to Glorfindel, soon,” I murmured wistfully. “I want my life back. I wish I remember it on my own--but it feels mine, do you understand me?”

“I understand,” Lady Galadriel nodded grimly, watching her granddaughter, Arwen, speak to the marchwardens who had just come back from the borders.

“I cannot help but love him now that I know everything,” I murmured, laying back on the bench next to the Lady Galadriel. I felt her hand come and pat mine briefly. I felt a rush of affection for her. “I love our daughters too...I wish they were still with me, as babies. I know now, I will not be able to have another child.”

The thought, said in my mind, was not as painful as admitting it aloud. It made my eyes well up in tears. Oh how I wish I could have a child now, to hold. How delightful that would be.

“It never has to be so,” Lady Galadriel told me gently, “You are not barren, you are simply too small to hold his seed.”

“My last birth almost killed me,” I informed her, remembering the part where Lord Relos--the ellon who helped me give birth and who has been my mentor and peer all those years--had stayed for nearly two days, restlessly, trying to keep me from dying on my birthing bed.

“It is no matter,” Lady Galadriel dismissed fiercely. “Love your husband. Love him and then I will help you. We have come a long way from medieval healthcare methods.”

“Why would you do all this for me?” I was confused.

Lady Galadriel turned to me; “Because you have the purest soul of anyone that I have ever seen. You actions and your values give you merit and there is none other whom I would be proud to call elf-friend, _my_ friend.”

“And I you,” I murmured, deeply affected, leaning and pressing a kiss on her cheek.

*~*~*

I was to go back to Imladris in the same procession as Arwen Evenstar, who, as it turns out, had an extremely lovely voice to accompany her lovely visage and her perfection. How could a creature like her be lesser in beauty to anyone? How is it that it was said that she was not as beautiful as the Morningstar of Doriath; Luthien? Every night, Arwen would quietly hum a song that would put all the soldiers at ease, but somehow, it would not take away from their alertness. Why did she not sing in the third age? I never heard her sing then.

But the road to Rivendell was long and tedious. It was longer than I remembered and with no one familiar in the company (not even Arwen, seeing as she was that she was different than whom I knew) I shivered alone for many nights, wishing Glorfindel would be there to hold me.

It was dangerous to think about Glorfindel in the presence of such a large procession of elves; my heart always picked up quickly and I always felt too aware of all the others around me. I tried to be as undisruptive as possible.

When my thighs and bum ached from riding that horse all this way, I didn’t complain. I couldn’t find it in myself to ask that the stop for a moment to allow me to get off the horse and walk alongside the few of them that travelled on foot. I couldn’t do it like I could with Glorfindel, Lord Elladan, and Lord Elrohir.

So I suffered in silence.

*~*~*

The sight of Rivendell was never more welcome. The many silver waterfalls that surrounded the valley made my heart speed up. In just a few moments, I would be face to face with Glorfindel--

How would I tell him?

I tried to imagine different scenarios where I would kiss him in front of everyone--but that was too bold. Perhaps ask to speak to him in private? No, too...weird--how would I tell him? How would he know? Would he even be accepting?

The only reason I am in Rivendell right now was because I was convinced that he would accept me but now it seemed to far-fetched that he would. Maybe when all this has settled...But, I might not even find him there upon my arrival.

I swallowed my doubts, my elation dimmed.

I would simply have to... _oh_ I don’t know.

Lord Elrond was there to greet us upon our arrival. Immediately, he went to his daughter, Lady Arwen, kissing her forehead and murmuring words of welcome in her ear. I felt awkward, just sitting there. So I wiggled of my horse, aware that one of the Lorien guards had stepped forward to help my inelegant plight. It was very difficult to do anything with one hand, even when I was so used to it.

Another guard from Lothlorien stepped forward, bowing and handing a sealed missive to Lord Elrond, who accepted it.

“You may all proceed to the Hall of Fire and refresh yourself. My stable hands shall take good care of your steeds.”

“Our gratitude,” Orophin, the leader of the company said, bowing deeply and proceeding to do just that. Do I follow them?

“Come, Lady Elizabeth,” Lord Elrond told me, and my heart leapt, “I would like to hear about everything.”

So I demurely followed the Lord of Imladris and his daughter back into the building.

*~*~*

I explained to Lord Elrond everything that I could tell him. I purposely omitted the detail that I did know him, from the future. Lady Galadriel warned me against such revelations and I didn’t want to be ostracized more than I already was. I just wanted to be accepted; even with my mutilations.

“So there is no real cause for your memory loss?” he asked me gently and I shook my head.

“None that the Lady Galadriel could find,” I shrugged. “But she did help me regain my memories.”

“Strange,” Lord Elrond murmured. “So you are Elizabeth Lane, the greatest translator of the First Age?”

“Yes, my Lord,” I murmured, the answer feeling like honey in my mouth. I loved that this identity was mine--that I never experienced, or had a memory of it being experienced was the only disappointment. But still, it felt embarrassing to be named The Greatest Translator of the First Age. It felt as though I had a standard to live up to now.

“So I imagine that now, you would like to speak with your husband,” he told me understandingly and I nodded, feeling a spike of guilt. His wife had departed these shores not too long ago after her ordeal with the orcs. Here I was flaunting my long-lost-and-now-found love in his face. How could I be so ingracious?

As if reading my thoughts, he gave me a reassuring smile; “Myself, I know that one day, I will be back to my dear Celebrian. But for now, my duty here is incomplete. Go find your love and rekindle it. He has patiently waited for you for many weeks--eons if you can believe it.”

I nodded grimly, standing up. Unable to help myself, I walked over to Lord Elrond and hugged him--without this man, I would still be lost, wandering forever with no purpose to call my own, with no future to hope for. He was, in many ways, the only father I ever had, even before, in my memories.

“Thank you,” I whispered. I felt him press a kiss to my head and patting my back.

“Go now, you will find him in the water gardens,” he told me. I nodded, pulling away and sniffing with emotion. I gave him a trembling smile. I didn’t want to leave his presence too quickly, because that might be rude. But seeming to understand my impatience, Lord Elrond waved me off. I curtsied quickly and departed.

I wove through the maze of hallways, trying to remember where the water gardens were. What if, in my clumsiness, I got lost and he couldn’t stay in one place for so long?--

No, here I was. The water gardens were a beautiful affair. In the night, the moths glowed and lit up the many roses and honeysuckle that surrounded the gardens and made the trees look like the Christmas lights that I had seen in my memories. It was so beautiful--

“My Lady?” I jumped. But the voice was so familiar, it immediately put me to ease. I turned to face Glorfindel. He stood there, staring at me, expressionless. I could not make anything of his expression in the dark. Did I look good enough--oh, maybe I smelled. I should have taken a bath and made myself more presentable.

“Hello,” I echoed, wincing at how awkward this was. I took a deep breath and with one rush of courage, I quickly took one step towards him, meaning to reach out but then I stopped. He didn’t know that I knew. I needed to tell him first before I scared him off with all the love that I was feeling so avidly.

“How was Lothlorien?” he asked me politely before I could open my mouth to speak. I felt my heart fall. He was making small talk--did that imply that he wasn’t interested in hearing me speak? I was being silly, I hadn’t even begun to speak. I swallowed my fears and nodded.

“It was good, but--” I began but then I caught myself. Were we alone? I preferred to be alone with him, what I was about to reveal to him was too intimate, and should be kept between us. I glanced around nervously, it looked empty. It was usually empty because these gardens were private, only to the High Lords of Imladris and at this time, all were with their families. I didn't want to put Glorfindel in an embarrassing situation that might expose him. I wanted the decision to be his, without pressure.

“But?” he prompted me, forcing my gaze back on him, and for the first time, I saw a sliver of hope in his eyes. All rationale flew from my mind after that. My heart soared and I found myself running into his arms. The hope in his eye was the only thing that gave me courage. I lost all control of myself and I could not hold back anymore. It felt so good to hug him. His body was so solid and big...so familiar. I could feel all the familiar ridges of his muscles, even through the tunic.

But he didn’t hug me back, nor did he push me away. He stood, rigid. I pulled away, hurt but understanding. I didn’t expect him to immediately hug me. It must have been so long.

“I remembered,” I told him, looking up at him, holding his hands, bringing them closer to me. He was compliant but unresponsive beneath my touch. “I--I, Gondolin, our love. My sweet daughters and...I remember. The Lady Galadriel helped me remember it all. I remember when we first got married and I thought that you thought that I was ugly and I was so hurt but then you took me and kissed me underwater and then made love to me all night.”

I was rambling but I couldn’t stop. I felt him step towards me but I stepped backwards, I was not done speaking yet.

“I remember when they touched my belly and it hurt but then you got the cream out from under the bed to make me feel better. I remember when you cut my hair off, and I slapped you for it. I remember that I almost died when I gave birth to my sweet Primrose. I remember telling you that only I got to name our beautiful daughters because you were never around to help me when I was pregnant and then you agreed to let me name all our daughters. I remember when I threw wine at the guard who manhandled you. I remember Queen Malu--I remember!” I couldn’t breath. I was speaking so rapidly. I needed him to understand that all my memories were not confined to the words of Ophelia. All those memories? They were mine and my daughter would never have known about them to write them in her book.

I remember and I wanted him to look at me the same way he looked at me in my memories. But he still remained like a statue, unmoving, his bright eyes were glowing unnaturally bright.

“I’m sorry,” I whimpered, feeling my tears stream down my face, “For shouting at you when you tried to touch me when I first woke up here. I am sorry that I am now in your life--you built such a name for yourself and you’ve moved on without me...but can you find it in yourself to love me just a little?”

I was begging now. But he still hadn’t moved. A few seconds passed and he still hadn’t responded. My heart shattered and I looked away, letting go of his hands. Perhaps Lady Galadriel was wrong about all this--

I felt him grab my waist and pull me to him, pressing his lips to mine, lifting me up so that he was literally carrying me. I kissed him back just as feverently.

“Oh--my Lord,” I whimpered, grinding my hips against his abdomen and I felt him shudder beneath me.

“My sweet wife,” he murmured back, gently setting me down and pressing kisses to my face.

Hand in hand, we walked back to his apartment.

*~*~*

His apartment was large on the inside than it was on the outside. The layout was just as similar to the ones in Gondolin and there were hot springs in the ground of his powder rooms.

“You miss Gondolin, right?” I murmured, holding his hand and kissing his chest as I looked around. He shut the door behind us and immediately kissed me once more.

I whimpered in delight. Everything just felt so right.

I began unlacing my dress, trying not to break the kiss but his fingers did that for me. I was grateful for that, one set of hands was not enough. But I got to his tunic--however for that, I needed to break the kiss.

I glanced at him, but his eyes were soft and amused, for me. My heart melted.

“Oh, my Lord,” I sighed, “You tease me.”

So he helped me undo his tunic. But before I was about to kiss him, he stepped back. My laces were half undone and my breasts were almost bare. Why is he stopping now?

“What is it, my Lord?” I murmured, stepping towards him, wondering what I did wrong.

“I don’t want our first time after so long to be hurried,” he told me, taking my hand and leading me to his powder room, shutting the curtain that separates it from the bedroom. I couldn’t help it, I took it my surroundings. Everything here was so simple but elegant.

“We should wash ourselves first,” he murmured. He helped me undo the laces to my dress but otherwise, he stepped back and let me take the rest of my dress off on my own.

I felt his eyes on me as I stripped, I didn’t mind. I let him look. It felt nice to be looked at in something else other than disgust or pity. He looked at me with adoration and reverence that one saved for their deities.

“Your thighs,” he murmured, cutting me off from my self-assuring thoughts. I turned to him, confused,  feeling suddenly exposed. Were they too flabby? Too thick? Too anything?

“What?” I squeaked, alarmed. He walked over to me and knelt before me. I stepped back in shock. His face was directly aligned with my breasts, but a supporting hand on the small of my back made me stop. The other hand squeezed between my thighs and immediately, cool relief pooled where his hands touched me. I grabbed his shoulders because the relief I didn’t think I needed felt so good, it made me light headed.

“My sweet wife,” he whispered, standing up and pressing a kiss to my shoulders once he healed my thighs, “You should take more care for your comfort.”

My heart skipped a beat.

_Whatever makes you happy, will make your husband even happier._

Lady Galadriel’s words resounded in my head and I felt my eyes well up in tears. I wasn’t sure what made me think for them right now, but it felt right. Everything with him felt right and made sense. I felt silly for being so mean to him when I first came here.

“I miss you so much,” I sobbed, hugging him. “I read the tales--what happened. Oh, the terrible wars that you fought in. You were so brave. My hero, my hope, my husband.”

I felt him felt him shift beneath me as he shrugged off the rest of his clothes without ever breaking contact from me. Soon, we were both naked and just like on our wedding night, he lifted me and submerged us both underwater, kissing me.

*~*~*

In the springs, we washed ourselves. Each of us scrubbing ourselves slowly. Sometimes, I would look at him and smile a gentle smile and he would smile back. We were wordless but our gestures were all the same, loving.

He would hand me a bar of soap after he had foamed it for me because I couldn’t do it properly with my one hand. I would hand him the oils that were close to me. When I accidentally dropped the bar of soap, he moved in front of me and bent down to retrieve it, never taking his gaze from me. His golden hair flowed all around us, my dark hair tangling in his own. When he would give the soap to me, he would press a kiss to the center of my chest, making me giggle shyly. My body was humming with happiness and we haven’t even made love properly. But the anticipation was brewing beneath. I could tell by the way his pupils dilated when he watched me clean myself.

“You always did this,” he murmured, sitting back against the wall of the springs, watching me languidly. I looked at him curiously.

“You always washed your fingers in the springs,” he elaborated, and I looked down, realising I was doing exactly as he said I did. But I always did it, I never thought it was anything significant about me. “You had your own way about doing it and it was always very meticulous.”

I gave him a puzzled little smile; “You noticed these things?”

“I notice everything about you,” he corrected me, his eyes flashing passionately. “I know you have one breast heavier than the other. I know you always file your nails and take routinely care of them before you sleep. I know you always make your own chamomile and lavender soap. I know--I know…”

I stared at him, my heart racing--how could he know all these things. How did he notice that my breasts were asymmetrical? It took me a while to notice it and the first time I noticed it was when the pimp at the settlement had ordered me to strip, to see if I was worthy enough to become a whore. Asymmetrical breasts did not please him. But even in Gondolin, I never realized that. How silly of me to not know my own body so well.

“Oh,” I looked down at my breasts, slightly dejected. Ever since that pimp pointed them out, I was always self-conscious about them, I avoided looking at them in the mirror.

When I looked back at him, I started at how close he had gotten; “Those breasts of yours...they are my favourite part of your body,” he informed me, his hands coming up and stroking their undersides under the water. He brought his face close enough so that I could feel his breath on my face and I felt a smile tug at my lips. I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, making his hands grip my sides tightly.

I squirmed.

“I missed your shoulders,” I murmured, watching the murals on his body--all those tattoos. I saw the tattoos that Lord Etchellion had given him, and the distinctive ones that Lord Elrond had drawn--but there were many new ones. “Who drew those ones?”

I felt him gather me in his arms, all soapy and everything, and walk back, sitting against the wall of the hotsprings, where he was. I sighed when I felt his hardened body against me. This all felt so very good.

“Lord Elrond drew some, and so did Lord Celeborn,” he murmured, “During the War of the Last Alliance--Gil-Galad drew the final ones.”

“You have them on your back too, right?”

“Yes,” Lord Glorfindel nodded. I wiggled upwards to look and sure enough, there they were. It was so fascinating because it felt as though I was just re-exploring his body. The thrill made me flushed.

I felt him press a kiss to the part where my ear was supposed to be. I flinched slightly. My ears have always been a sensitive issue for me. They were just two holes on the sides of my head that I always covered up with little pieces of cloth. But I had neglected that for a while on my journey back to Rivendell from Lothlorien, I suppose my nervousness made me neglect a lot of things.

“You are still gorgeous,” he murmured, seeming to read through my insecurity. “The most beautiful of the peoples.”

“To you,” I grinned at him shyly.

“Whose opinion should ever matter so much to you besides the opinion of those who love you?” Glorfindel asked me, frowning in concentration as he massaged some soap in my hair, pulling me on his lap.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “I have to care sometimes. Sometimes, people can be unkind.” I could still Rosa’s yellow teeth as she tossed me a half-chewed shilling. Glorfindel tightened his grip around my waist, his hand pausing briefly on my scalp.

“That will never be the case here,” Glorfindel told me, his voice fierce. He tilted my head up, so that I may meet his gaze. His eyes were glowing brightly. “No one would ever dare to disrespect the Sentinel of Rivendell or his wife.”

“No, they would never dare,” I agreed with him seriously, feeling my eyes tear up with emotion, a teasing smile on my lips.

“How did they treat you, the edain?” Glorfindel asked me, leaning back at the edge of the springs, on his elbows, studying me. I felt like a kitten, sprawled all over his broad chest like this. I looked down at his hands, which were still covered in soap.

“It was a pitiful life that I had,” I admitted, playing with his fingers. “I don’t want to tell it to you...you might think less of me for this.”

“I would never,” Glorfindel told me seriously, flicking a bit of water at me.

“I--Maybe one day,” I admitted, unable to meet his gaze. “But today, I am ashamed of what I had to do to survive.”

“Were you a prostitute?” Glorfindel asked me, shifting to accomodate me better. “Is that why you are so ashamed?”

I shook my head, feeling my face burn; “No, I cleaned after them but--please don’t make me speak of this. It hurts me.”

And he therein he fell silent. I was quickly becoming exhausted. I put my head against his shoulders and closed my eyes, feeling all my fatigue pour away from my body. The procession of Lady Arwen rode tirelessly. My reunion with Glorfindel  made me briefly forget my fatigue. But now when I was so relaxed with him, it was easy to feel tired. I just wished I could stay awake long enough to be with him--finally, as husband and wife.

“Sleep, my love,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to where my ear was supposed to be. “Sleep. I will be with you when you wake up.”

“Don’t leave me,” I whimpered when I felt him gently wash away my hair with water and wash the soap from my body.

“I won’t,” he promised me, pressing me further against him so that I felt him.

“I want to make love to you,” I sniffed, feeling ready to cry. I didn’t want to sleep now that I was finally in my husband’s arms. What a strange concept; i finally have everything I never thought i would ever have. I had a hope, a future, and the love of a family, even if they were not all here. The thought of that was enough to make my tears spill.

“There will be plenty of time for that,” he promised me, pulling away and kissing my nose playfully, wiping my tears. His eyes were studying, intensely and softly. Any girl would wish for her lover to look at her like that. I blushed with embarrassment, looking away from the intensity of his gaze. “But I would rather my wife to be awake to scream out my name when I ravish her--not as a vegetable.”

I laughed at his choice in words, wiping away my tears. “You have always been so considerate of me.”

“You have always been _too_ considerate of me,” he said grimly, lifting my stump and kissing the spot where the rest of my arm should have been.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amidst the new found bliss, long forgotten pains return.

When I woke up, I warm and comfortable. Even when I was laying on my husband’s hard chest--it felt as though no time has passed between us. I briefly remembered having the best sleep of my remembered life. I just lay my head on Glorfindel’s shoulder and slept like a babe. Once again, we were together. Once again, we were in love.

I was so comfortable that it all felt like a dream. For once, in this life, I didn’t wake up alone. I didn’t wake up starving for several days or swollen-face from bitter tears. I didn’t wake up on a hard makeshift straw bed. I woke up on a soft, feather bed, in the arms of the man I love, with daylight streaming into the little apartment. I blearily opened my eyes, there was a little hummingbird standing the windowsill, hopping around distractedly before flying off. Could there be a better reality?

I missed my husband.

“Good morning,” he murmured. I felt his chest rumble beneath me at the sound of his voice. I shuddered at how appealing his voice in the morning was.

“Good morning to you too, my Lord,” I murmured, wiggling to press a close-mouthed kiss to his cheek.  I felt him smile because I could see his dimples. I melted at the sight and feel of them.

“Hmmm…” He hummed and I got up from the bed, allowing him to shift. He must be numb, I felt a little guilty. I gave him a sheepish smile as he turned on his size to watch me. I was pleasantly surprised to find a glass of water awaiting me, to be greedily gulped. Oh, that felt better.

“Thank you,” I murmured, falling back to his embrace after setting aside the glass. I tangled my legs with his legs, surprised to feel him completely naked beneath me. I felt my body burn at the revelation. I never felt that before. I flinched in surprised a little, before forcing myself to relax in his embrace. I was not naive enough to not know what that meant.

“May I love you now?” I murmured, a little embarrassed. It felt like an opportune moment and I was not about to let this precious morning go to waste. The pooling feeling in my belly wouldn't leave me. It just keeps building up. I just needed him, only he can love me.

In one quick move, Glorfindel had flipped us both so that I was beneath him and everything suddenly seemed to go in slow motion. His hair curtained us and the world around me turned gold, with only his glowing blue eyes to reach in this sunlight.

“You may have whatever the fuck you want love,” he promised me, kissing me. The familiarity of the words made me tingle.

I missed him.

*~*~*

True to his word, I screamed his name until my throat turned hoarse. My legs felt like jelly and many times, he took me, in so many different ways. Many times he kissed me, made love to me, and made me feel like a goddess. Is this what Rose the Whore felt like when she was with her clients? How can anyone share something so intimate but with the one they love? I couldn’t imagine any other man but Glorfindel. The thought of anyone else but him made me sick.  Rose couldn’t possibly ever feel like that.

The way this man loved my body was unearthly. He gave love and attention to every inch of me, finding sensitive spots that I didn’t know existed (the medial side of my knees was surprisingly sensitive). He mastered my body like an expert, he knew my body even better than I did. He knew every bump and dent, he knew where I had cellulite and where I had stretch marks and he kissed them all. I tried to get up and love him like that as well but he wouldn’t let me. I didn’t mind.

And like a flower, under the right sun and the right care, I bloomed beneath him.

“You always knew how to love me,” I sighed, watching as he left the bed, naked, to go over to his desk and fill himself a cup of wine. Flashbacks of all our moments together, before this age, came back to me and I shuddered in delight. Every single muscle in Glorfindel’s body visibly contracted and relaxed with his movement. His body was fluid and harmonious, like art. Someone spent a lot of time on this particular man’s creation. I sighed happily, watching him with hooded eyes, his warmth still resonating inside me. But when he didn't look at me and instead focused on some maps on his desk, I frowned at the lack of attention that I received from him.

“Forgive me, Lady Wife,” Glorfindel murmured when I huffed indignantly. He gave me a feral smirk while watching me as I wrapped his robe around me and timidly shuffled over to him.  When I was an arm’s length away from him, I felt him pull me with one arm and lift me, seating me on his desk. The feeling of being effortlessly lifted made me giggle breathily. It felt ethereal.

“My Sweet Summer wife,” he murmured, looking down at me lovingly, stroking my thighs. I stared at him, committing every detail of his face into memory. He was perfect. Glorfindel threw his head back and with one swing, he downed his entire glass of wine and kicked the armchair behind him to sit on it in front of me.  He set aside his cup and watched me with a feral gleam in his eyes. My heart raced in my chest.

“My Lord, what--?” I giggled nervously when he set his hands on my knees, spreading my legs.  My heart was pounding as if I already peaked. He didn’t even do anything yet.

“Rest, dear wife,” he murmured, bending his head and nipping the skin on my hip. I lurched forward, my hands coming to the side of his head and holding his head ready to push him away, already guessing at what he was going to do. I felt strangely embarrassed.

“But there is still--I’m not cle--"I tried but my speech was halting. How do I phrase this? He leaned forward and kissed me, effectively silencing me. He pulled away and travelled down, pressing a kiss to my nipple that was more of a suck. I made a strange, breathless sound in the back of my throat, nearly peaking, my vision hazy with pleasure. “Where has this boldness come from, my Lord?” Did I say that properly? I wasn't sure.

“It has always been there,” he assured me amiably, one of his fingers brushing against my sensitive spot. I sucked in a sharp breath, my legs knocking together, but his hands gently rubbed my thighs back together. “I just didn’t want scare you off.”

“Scare me off?” I giggled incredulously, my breathing was irregular now. My heart was pounding in dirty anticipation but I couldn't help but keep talking--to stall him. “You have a wild imagination my lord--how do you come up with all these…” I trailed off. I was always curious about the many ways he took me. How did he know how to make love? Despite working in the brothel, I actively avoided seeing all what played out around me, always embarrassed and bitter that I might never get to be so desired, or to smile like that at a man. So my knowledge was limited. As though sensing my question, he grinned and decided to be kind to me and answer me directly.

“Soldiers like to talk and fantasize,” he shrugged and I tried imagining how Glorfindel, so proud and noble, would be crass enough to discuss such things with his comrades. I couldn't. “I admit, I was dubious about some of the talk but it worked well in my favour, did it not?” He smirked, watching as I blushed. This was the dirtiest conversation we ever had. I didn't know how I found the courage to discuss such things with him.  But he seemed to be enjoying both my discomfort and curiosity.

“It did,” I admitted bashfully. Then he bent his head once more and I cried out, arching my back and gripping the edge of the table to hold myself together.

_Oh._

*~*~*

I shuddered when I felt Glorfindel take me from behind. I wasn't physically able to hold myself up with one hand but my husband supported the rest of my unsupported weight all on his own. His arm was wrapped around my belly, holding me up and giving me the occasional, reassuring rub. He was silently telling me he would never let go of me, in any context. His other hand was gripping the headboard above me to support his own weight.  His breathing was heavy in my ear.

“Gently, my Lord,” I whimpered; his thrusts were getting too rough. But he didn’t seem to be hearing me. I felt tears well up in my eyes. _Oh_ , he was not stopping.

“My Lord,” I tried again, burying my face in the pillow to hold my breath for a moment. “Gently, please.”

I think my voice cracked and he must have heard that because immediately, he stopped. I collapsed on the bed, shocked.

I felt his hand stroke my back soothingly. “Forgive me, my Love.”

There was remorse in his voice but I was unable to listen to it. I was just too discombobulated. I felt the bed shift next to me, indicating that he was coming to lie next to me. I felt his entire body press to me and I relaxed. I was alright. I just--I hated any sort of pain, even the miniscule kind. I could see bright flashes of my memories from a previous world--dark, sultry eyes and the sound of a whiplash cracking on flesh--in my mind.

“Just...gently,” I breathe, shuddering when I felt him kiss my shoulder. In hindsight, Glorfindel hadn’t been violent or rough--he was just a little forceful with his thrusts and that terrified me more than it pained me. I wiped my tears on the pillow. I felt his hand come, soothingly, on my head, and he pressed kisses to my temple, gently pulling out of me without hurting me, and pressing a soothing hand to me.

“It has been too long since I have been gentle,” he finally told me, settling next to me, still hard. He gathered my trembling body to his chest. “I lost myself.”

I nodded in understanding. It has been four thousand years. “You haven't finished,” I noted and then looked back up at him, he smiled at me, something akin to sorrow in his eyes but they were still gentle.

“Neither have you,” he murmured, kissing me some more. I pulled away. I had already forgiven him but it was clear he didn't forgive himself. I kissed his chest and slid further down, pressing an open mouthed kiss to his hips.

“My Lady,” he murmured pushing at my shoulder but I shrugged him off.

*~*~*

For many days we stayed together in each other's embrace, talking and laughing and just being... _normal_ once more. And yet, how can anything be normal after four thousand years? I didn't know the answer to that because nothing seemed to have changed between us. I loved it.

I had severely underestimated Glorfindel and I was glad I was wrong. Glorfindel was so much more than I could ever hope for. He was so much better than anyone ever was. In his eyes, there was a deep, permanently etched sorrow that I knew even I could never be able to take away. He just saw too many things, experienced too many things, for the sorrow to completely fade.

During the day, I took to gardening, remaking my little garden, just for an hour, before I washed up quickly and went to work with Lord Elrond. When it would come to the late evening, Glorfindel would come back from his training and patrol and he would love me until sunrise--or simply hold me in his arms as I slept.

I had resorted to a habit in Imladris, _repetitiveness_. It was the only semblance of ‘normal’ I would ever get before everything changed once more (it felt so inevitable and that devastated me). I shuddered at the thought of having to relive all the horrors I ever did and in some ways, I hated that I had all my memories back because with it, came the terrible pain. Sometimes, I would wake up with a deep, burning fire in my back, or a terrible ache in my stump. But the question remained, how can I be in pain when there was nothing to be pained about? It never happened before so why was it happening now?

But it only happened on the nights that Glorfindel was not there.  In my sleep, I would wake up in a puddle of my own sweat; a helpless, crying mess.

_The pain is not real._

_The pain is not real._

_The pain is not real._

I shook my head from such thoughts. I was in a happier time, a peaceful time with my husband. It was not completely peaceful and that was what worried me the most. The dark forces lingered and while there were dark forces, I was never safe in my own time.

The Lady Galadriel and I kept a pleasant correspondance with one another. Often times, she shared her knowledge with me regarding specific types of plants I wished to grow but was unsure of how to do so. But the question that still remained was how would she help me conceive. She told me to love my husband and not to worry. But how long would it be till I conceived? I wanted more children with him--I wanted to give him a son. I never got to see my daughters live, love, laugh, and I never got to comfort them in their suffering and grief. I think that is what pained me the most. That is what drove me to the point of over compensation. I wish it was easier for me if I did not feel so strongly for the people I loved. It was terribly disheartening when I find out I could do nothing to help them or ease their suffering.

I did not want to show Glorfindel that I was thinking that way. I can already see, he tried so hard to make me happy. He brought me jewelry, he brought me little trinkets and things that he knows could be useful to me so I don’t have to get them and worry over the expenses (he was rich but I hated the thought of him spending money on me), and he was always so thoughtful. I would hate to have him think it was his fault because I knew that _just as I did for him_ , he took my personal happiness as his mission in life.

“Ah...Lady Elizabeth,” Lord Elrond’s voice came from behind me and I jumped slightly.

“I made sure to step louder,” he informed me kindly when I hurriedly got up and brushed myself off. I gave him a shy, abashed giggle. Despite my supposed but dubious _‘immortality_ ,’ it did not grant me the blessings that only the Firstborn had; grace, elegance, agility,...

“Oh,” I shifted, “You did, I was just too focused on my work.” I gestured to my gardens. Nothing had flowered yet, and would not properly do so for another month or so.

“Blessed is the work of your hands,” he told me, giving me a kind smile, holding out his arm for me to take. I blushed with pleasure and took off my gardening gloves so that I may not soil his beautiful robes.

For a while, we only just walked. Surprisingly, it was not awkward, it was peaceful and the sense of companionship did surprising wonders to my deteriorating mental state. So far, I had not gone to see Lord Elrond with regards to the phantom pains I have been feeling. I had not gone to him with regards to the matter of a potential child. All those problems...they were too personal and too menial. Lord Elrond had far greater worries. He had so many people who came to him, daily, from distant lands, for help. I could not take his attention away from that, especially for something that...just was not as important. It was important to me but I couldn’t possibly be so selfish.

“I do not presume to have Lady Galadriel’s vast powers,” Lord Elrond finally said, “I am not as powerful as she is and I am not as experienced as she is. But I know when there is disquiet in the members of my house.”

My head shot up in alarm, he couldn’t be talking about me, I wasn’t injured. Who else was injured? “Is something the matter?”

“You tell me,” Lord Elrond prompted me, stopping at a bench and inviting me to sit down next to him. “Your disquiet worries me. Your smiles do not shine as before.”

I gave him a reassuring, trembling smile. I didn’t realize I needed someone to come and address my own issues to my face. It felt infinitely better because I did not take away his attention from his work and he deemed it important enough to seek me out of his own volition. I suppose in that respect I was grateful.

“I’m sorry,” I said automatically, realizing that I unwittingly worried him.

“You are too hard on yourself,” there was gentle rebuke in his tone, “You care too much of other people’s comfort and you trivialize your own problems. It is alright to think about yourself sometimes.”

“Well…” I trailed off, “A lot of women have my problems...what can be done?”

“I will determine that,” Lord Elrond assured me and it felt too private and humiliating to tell him that I was not sure that I could conceive. How would Lord Elrond, he who wielded one of the three of the most powerful rings in existence, be able to remedy such a... _human_ problem?

I took a deep breath of courage anyways and proceeded to tell him; “I don’t think I can conceive.”

Lord Elrond was silent for a while; “How have you reached that conclusion?”

“I almost died in my last birth,” I told him, “When I gave birth to Primrose, I almost did not live. I...was told that it would be dangerous for me to conceive. That I should not try to do so. I--but I want to but I was also told that I was damaged on the inside from my last birth. How--”

It was a cathartic release to tell him all my problems; soon I was crying. It felt better but it also felt terrible to say all of this outloud.

“You want children?” he asked me gently, patting my shoulder compassionately. I delicately wiped away my tears. I didn’t want to appear like I was crying to someone who looked on in from the outside.

“Yes--of course I do,” I was confused that he would ask such a question after all that I told him? “I want...my daughters, I never watched them grow up and love and...and suffer. I was never there to comfort them. I want children. I want to experience all that with my other children. I want to give my husband a son.”

“Lord Glorfindel will love you with or without a son,” Lord Elrond told me, “If your last birth almost killed you then surely this…”

He trailed off, looking pensive as he studied me; I know what he was going to say. It was a truth that I was too ashamed and too terrified to face. No more children? That shattered my heart.

“Try,” he finally told me, “Try and try and we will help you. I know Lady Galadriel gave you her word that she would help you. How can you be scared in the face of such a guardian watching over you?”

I was surprised; “I don’t know.”

He gave me a soft smile and kissed the crown of my head. “You will have more children,” he assured me, “It is in your future.”

“My future?” I shrilled and then I remembered, he had some foresight that was afforded to him by Vilya and his pure lineage--he was from a line of powerful and extraordinary Firstborn.. Hope spiked in my chest. I gave him a grateful smile but there was something incredibly sorrowful about his eyes.

“Is there anything else you would like to tell me?” He finally asked me, ignoring my question and I thought about it...phantom pain, how would he remedy that? How can he treat something that was not there to begin with--something from a memory? He probably had them too.

“No,” I finally said. “Thank you so much, my lord.”

“It is no matter,” Lord Elrond dismissed, “Come to me with your problems. I am meant to help those in need of aid.”

“Thank you,” I told him anyways, feeling guilty. A part of me knew I should have told him but another part of me argued that pain, phantom pain, from bad memories did not warrant importance. That was the part that won.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some issues resurface.

My flowers were finally blooming. That made me incredibly happy. I spent weeks on this garden and they were still little sproutlings, mostly. The few odd flowers were blooming and soon, I would be able to make scented oils.

“Look,” I told Glorfindel, who watched me, his eyes soft. He was distracted and it made me a little embarrassed that I was the source of his distraction. It was the good sort of embarrassment. I snapped my fingers in front of his eyes and pointed at my plants. “Look,” I insisted, unable to stop the growing smile on his face.

“I’m looking,” he assured me, still looking at me, “I saw them. They are beautiful.”

I rolled my eyes, turning around, feeling irritated that he was looking at me instead of the flowers that I worked so hard for. But then I frowned at myself, why was I being so irritable? I had no business being so disagreeable. I should be flattered that he would rather look at me.

“My love,” he breathed, hugging me from behind. I turned back to him and plastered a smile on my face. Everything suddenly felt so forced and I didn’t like this. I didn’t like this new me. I had been irritable for the past week and I had been suppressing it. My hands felt dry and grainy and I wanted to wash them.

“I want to go inside,” I told him bluntly, moving past him. “I want to go inside and wash my hands.”

When I walked back inside out apartments, I made a line straight for the powder room, unable to feel remorse for having ignored Glorfindel so cruelly. When I finally got to wash my hands, I thought about my behaviour towards Glorfindel today. Immediately, I felt remorseful. How could I have been so mean to him?

“Glorfindel--my Lord!” I called out to him, walking out of the powder room while drying my hands. Barely a second passed and he walked out of our rooms and I stopped, staring at him. “I’m sorry,” I blurted.

He smiled at me gently, walking in front of me and kneeling before me. I stepped back in confusion, what was he doing? There were not many instances where he kneeled.

“Is something the matter--?” I stopped when his hands came to my waist and his gaze shifted from my eyes to my belly. My heart stopped. It couldn’t be…? But he always knew.

“What is it?” I breathed, not wanting to hear the answer. It can either devastate me or it can make me the happiest person in Imladris.

He didn’t answer me, but he leaned forward and kissed my belly. My heart leapt and I felt my eyes well up in tears. He would not be so cruel to me, he would never fool me about something I desired so ardently. He would never…

“You have always been precious to me,” he murmured against me and my heart pounded inside me. He could probably hear that. “Always, always. Your body was created to be loved and it has always nurtured our daughters. It will be no different this time,” he promised me, finally looking me in the eyes.

“Congratulations, Lady Wife,” he murmured, rising and kissing me. I was unabashedly crying now. “You will be a mother once more.”

In one quick move, he picked me up, tossing me into the air. I squealed in terror and thrill, losing my emotion. My heart was evidently pounding now.

“What on Earth?” I asked him, breathily laughing. “Don’t do that, that was frightening.”

“Wait till I toss you in the pond,” he told me seriously. I studied his face, trying to see if he was joking. He probably was, but his straight-faced humor always caught me off guard.

“You wouldn’t dare,” I yelped, when he began to move. I tried to wiggle off him but he only held me tighter, in such a way that I was nearly impossible for me to move. “Don’t you dare!”

A moment later, I was completely submerged in the cool pond water, the ring of his laughter resonating in my ears, under the water.

*~*~*

“Lady Galadriel told me she would help me this time,” I told him that night, squirming when his hands drifted over my sides. I was ticklish and he knew that very well.

“That is good,” he murmured quietly, his bright eyes watching me in the dark. “Very good...I cannot--I have to admit, I have my reservations about this pregnancy.”

That was understandable because so did I; “I want it though.”

“So do I,” he assured me, leaning forward and kissing me. “Very much. But I want you even more. I love you too much to lose you”

I nodded; “I--I won’t die,” it was the only assurance I could give him because Lord Elrond gave me, indirectly, the same assurance. I trusted Lord Elrond.

“But you will suffer,” the light in his gaze dimmed, “You will suffer too much.”

“I am willing,” I murmured, “I want this so much...I-I dream about it. I want a child so much. It hurts me to think of a future without children.”

He nodded in understanding and leaned in to kiss me again; “There are many things of which I wish to protect you. But this is beyond my realm of powers.”

“Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond will help me,” I told him, hugging him closer to me, wishing to end this conversation.

Glorfindel stayed silent.

*~*~*

The further I progressed in my pregnancy, the more reserved from me Glorfindel became. I noticed it. For many months, Glorfindel did not touch me in the way I wanted him to. He only held me as I slept and he avoided my touches, telling me to take care of myself. At one point, he was actively putting off intimacy between us until I took the hint and just let him be. I wasn’t about to force my affection on him. But that hurt me more than I cared to admit. Still, I was content with him just holding me. I knew why he isolated himself from me. He was not convinced that I wouldn’t die, despite my assurances. I couldn’t ask him to love me as he normally would, when he had his reservations. I think I would be the same way if I was in his _place--no_.

No--I knew he was going to die and I loved him anyways. Why couldn’t he pay me the same respect? Now that I thought about it, I realised that Glorfindel was being ridiculously unfair but I didn’t know how to tell him. It was always difficult for me to express myself because the words always got stuck in my brain from overthinking. Still, this needed to be addressed and so that's what I did.

“My Lord?” I murmured, wringing my fingers, watching as Glorfindel shrugged on his tunic for the Hall of Fire. It is not often that we went there because usually it was for notable events, like the return of a patrol procession. Glorfindel’s Patrol was due to start the following day, soon.

“Yes?” He asked me, not turning around.

“Would you speak to me for a moment?” I asked him and then I winced.

“I am speaking to you am I not?” His voice gave nothing away. He knew what I wanted to speak to him about and he was not making it easy for me.

“No, you are not,” I snapped. “I knew--I always knew that you were going to die--you were going to fight that Balrog and die. I always knew it even before I met you.”

He swiftly turned around and stared at me, his mouth open, but unwisely, I continued. Lady Galadriel’s voice was flying right past my head. “I always knew that Maeglin would betray Gondolin but I couldn’t do anything about it because it was always meant to happen. Without this happening--The Fall--Morgoth would never have been defeated. All the events that happened that I knew about were meant to happen. I knew but I still loved you!”

He was staring at me silently, his mouth pressed into a thin line and something bordering on extreme displeasure was on his face and suddenly, I was questioning the wisdom of my revelation to him. But I continued; how much worse could it get?

“I loved you every moment I had, I tried to make you the happiest man in Gondolin all those years because I knew your days were numbered. If I was going to die, you can’t ignore me and isolate yourself from me. I--You have to love me as best as you could because then you won’t have any regrets!”

“You knew,” he spat his blue eyes glowing--I flinched away, stepping back. I’d never seen him this angry with me. “You knew all this--how? Why did you say nothing?”

I stared at him incredulously; “Would you have believed me then? Had I said it--anyone could have reported me and I would have been tossed off the walls like a rag doll!”

“You did it so you could live?” He laughed derisively, incredulously. Something was dawning into his eyes, as though he realised that all I ever was to him was a lie. I hated it.

“Yes,” I snapped, “So I could live to try and change the events. What use am I dead?--Queen Malu? Do you remember her? Do you remember the army that I brought down upon Morgoth’s forces? Do you remember? That was never meant to happen! But no matter what I did--everything still happened exactly the same way as it did!”

He stared at me some more; “You were not meant to exist,” he told me, something akin to disgust in his eyes. His eyes were swirling with confusion, realization, and repulsion; “The trial--you were from the future then and coming back now--how is this possible? How is it possible that you spoke of Imladris then?”

“I don’t know,” I said desperately, trying to make him understand. Lady Galadriel was right, I should never have said anything. She explicitly warned me against it. But Glorfindel--he--he was kind. He was not like the others, surely he would understand? “I-I just --knew--saw things and I tried to change them for the better but they still happened anyways!”

“I--I cannot look at you anymore,” he murmured, turning around quickly and walking out of the front door, leaving me staring after him.

Maybe I overestimated his understanding. When the door closed affirmatively, I realised that there was no force on earth that could make me go back in time and hold my tongue.

*~*~*

I didn’t see Glorfindel again for several days. So for several days, I aimlessly wandered the forests of Imladris. I discovered new things that helped me take my mind off from what had happened just two weeks previous. Rivendell was beautiful. The trees were old and large, and the sound of water could always be heard. But its beauty could not distract me from my pain, from my uncertainty. How would I proceed from here?

“What are you doing here?” It was Lady Arwen’s voice.

I turned to her, smiling, “Nothing, just walking.”

“So deep into the forest?” She had a smile playing on her lips, “You husband will be searching for you, surely?”

I felt annoyed that everyone would suddenly presume that everything depended on what Glorfindel thought. What about what I think? What about what I feel? What about what I want? Was Glorfindel the bottom line? The standard on which I was held to criticism? I felt annoyance bubbling inside me.

“No,” I told her, giving her my sweetest smile, I liked Lady Arwen, but I disliked her probing questions. “He is off at patrol. Besides, what are you doing so deep in the forest?”

“Walking, of course,” Lady Arwen told me, giggling. I smiled at her. I wouldn’t mind having a companion, I suppose.

So for many hours, we walked; sometimes in silence, sometimes discussing trivial happenings with each other. The hours passed into the night...soon, the silvery shadows became faint, I was a little too deep into the forest. I’d best get moving now. But at one point, a dull ache began in my stump. I winced.

It kept getting more and more frequent. In just a few seconds, the sting in my back would begin--

 _There it was_. I was prepared for it now, I was used to it. I knew to expect it. But I was never prepared for the pain. I only knew how to control my reaction. I bit back a scream and instead, gave Lady Arwen a smile, but thankfully she was not looking. I needed to be alone right now. I needed to nurse my phantom pains alone. I needed to...I needed to be alone. Suddenly, having the delightful Lady Arwen for company made my mouth dry. I didn’t want anyone with me.

“Excuse me, milady. I would like to go back, alone. I just remembered something--I need to go back,” I was trying so hard to be polite but the pain almost made my eyes water.

“Are you sure you would not like some company?” Something about the airy quality of her voice gave me a pause, _concern_. She was concerned for me, that flattered me. It seemed as though no one was showing regard for me these days.

“Yes, I am sure. Thank you so much. I am sorry for being so rude--”

“Think nothing of it. It would be nice to walk alone too,” Lady Arwen assured me and I felt terrible. She was always so sweet to me. I didn’t want to be rude but I couldn’t--I already messed up once with Glorfindel. I couldn’t ostracize myself from all the rest. But I needed this for myself as well.

“It is not for the lack of good company,” I protested, blinking back tears. “It is--I just need space for my thoughts.”

“I understand,” Lady Arwen’s voice had a tone of finality and compassion and I knew, immediately, she would not be offended.

“Thank you,” I quickly, or as quickly as I could with the size of my stomach, curtsied and turned around, walking away. I was trying to run upright, but my weight and the pain made that nearly impossible, especially in Arwen’s line of vision.

When I was a safe distance away, I let my tears fall. The pain had spread to my belly and I found my knees buckling. I quickly fell against the solid stump of a tree, sliding to the ground.

“Ah,” I cried, trying to be silent. It was so painful. It had never been so bad before. I needed...water? Maybe some poppyseed solution. I needed something to help me get through the pain. I needed something.

“Elizabeth,” His voice was deep and just as perfect as I remembered--It came so suddenly. But the pain made my senses hazy.

 _Glorfindel_.

I wanted to be aware once I finally faced him after all this time but it was difficult. I could barely look up past his knees. It felt as though the very act of unfolding my body increased my pain tenfold. Then he knelt in front of me. But when he touched me, I thought the pain would _tear_ me apart. I cried out.

“What is it?” his voice was alarmed, as though I was dying before his eyes. I probably was but he was not making it any better. His hand on my side and my shoulder were rubbing my skin soothingly but it didn't feel soothing. It felt like a thousand knives.

“Stop,” I wailed, “Don’t touch me!”

His hands immediately left me, as though I had burned him.

But the effect was immediate, relief, so overpowering I nearly swooned, overtook me. The pain was gone and I was able to look at him properly. But not too properly, I was practically crumbling to the ground from liberation of the pain.

He was still in his patrol uniform and his hair was gently flowing about his face in the sunset winds. He was glowing and I almost burst into tears once more. I hadn't realised how much I missed him.

But I was going to stay my resolve. He had proven, very well, in the last two weeks, that he can hold his own resolve.

“What are you doing here?” I snapped breathlessly once I regained my senses. Glorfindel’s face shifted from concern to wariness. “Shouldn’t you be off somewhere not looking at me and ignoring me?”

“I should,” He agreed icily, stepping back and watching me struggle to my feet. I huffed at him and moved past him, ignoring him completely, limping in an undignified manner. I was terrified that the pain would return once more.

“Then you should keep doing that,” I told him testily, “Watch tree branches or something. I am sure they are fascinating to you.”

“Are you sure?” Glorfindel was following closely behind me and a small part of me was feeling the thrill of the prey. It felt as though any second now, I would turn into a doe, and he the hunter, in a goose chase. But I stumped the feeling down. I was in no mood or shape to run and I knew if I did, Glorfindel would chase me down and catch me before I was but a few paces away. I didn’t want to speak with him but at the same time, I knew I needed to.  

“More fascinating than speaking to your wife and trying to understand her,” I shot at him. Barely glancing back. At first, it was my fault, but then his aloofness, his lack of understanding, and his hurtful words made it his fault.

“That is why I came back,” He told be but something in his voice was pained, as though he finally realised that he was at fault and not me. Good.

“There was a time for that and you didn’t bother then,” I was being petty and I knew it but I deserved to be petty. “Besides, you seem to find it infinitely easier to not look at me.”

“Forgive me,” he told me gently and I kept walking, even when my feet begged me to stay. I wanted to forgive him, but I also wanted to indulge in some more pettiness.

“Later, when I am in the mood,” I told him airily.

“What was that _then--before_?” He asked me and I pretended I didn't hear him. I didn't want to tell anyone about my fathom pains, including Glorfindel. He already thought I was strange enough.

“Elizabeth?” he prompted me, his voice sounding testy, he never called me Elizabeth and the few instances that he did, events usually turned to disfavor.

“Nothing you should concern yourself with,” I told him testily. I was not lying because I knew how much he hated lying.

“You are my wife, I am always concerned for you.”

“You did a fair job of proving otherwise these last few weeks,” I told him, pouting because I knew he couldn't see. He fell silent and did not speak again until we reached our apartments.

“Am I still welcome in your house?” I asked him testily before we entered the threshold. I knew that was a bit of a low blow but honestly, did he expect any differently after how hurtful and narrow-minded he had been? Him, of all people, who surpassed normalcy?

I could feel his sharp gaze on my back; “You should never doubt your welcome in your own house.”

“It has been very difficult to do otherwise when your husband disappears for a many days after being told something extremely personal and private. Oh, it has also become difficult to do so when I am told I was never meant to exist,” I reminded him. I stepped inside and took off my shawl, neatly setting it on its customary place by the fire.

“I am sorry for that,” Glorfindel acknowledged and I finally turned to look at him. “I should never have callously betrayed the trust you had invested in me. I should have been more understanding and now--that I thought more on it--it is easy to see that I have been a fool to be so hurtful towards you.”

His words softened me and I could already feel my entire body relaxing with every word. He could have stayed at the apartment and not sought me out in the forest, after a gruelling few weeks on patrol. He really could have but he chose to come to me, to tell me this (I had the impression that he tracked me down, he was terribly good at tracking).

“I am indebted to you--you are a hero--you have always been my heroine. Great was your destiny--great was your cause,” he bowed low to me, never breaking eye contact with me. I could already feel myself waddling towards him.  “You have suffered many injustices and for the last few weeks, you have suffered even more because of my stupidity.”

I already forgave him, as silly and pathetic as that sounded. But I didn't want to fight any longer. He understands now and that was all I wanted. Besides, Glorfindel was only ever sincere with his emotions, I’ve never known him to lie, and once or twice, hereabouts, I’ve heard he was too expressive to be a good liar. In Gondolin, it was more fact than mockery. Glorfindel never lied, and always held himself to a standard of excellence that will never subject him to a situation where he was forced to lie.

When I was but an arm away from him, he pulled me towards him, squishing my belly between us and rubbing my arms and back. “Forgive me, Lady Wife.”

“Make love to me first,” I demanded of him, deciding not to let him off easy. “You haven't done so in many months. Then we will see.”

I could see his mouth twitch as he eyed me hotly. In one move, he had me in his arms, kicking the door to our bedroom open, tossing me on the bed and shutting the door behind him. I had yelped in alarm when he tossed me and I couldn't help but giggle. But he wasn't smiling. His eyes were hot and determined. In one move his body was over mine, covering me but not resting his weight against me, even though I wished he did.

“You have neglected my needs,” I murmured, giving him a solid glare and he had the grace to look contrite.

“I have neglected you all together,” he agreed, leaning forward and kissing me.

I pulled away from him and scurried back towards the bed, away from him. My stomach felt heavy on my abdomen but I didn't mind the weight. As long as it did not hinder my speed. At least, not enough to slow me down drastically.

I shuddered under his heated gaze and knocked my knees together.

“You wont make this easy for me will you?” He murmured, sounding resigned. I shook my head, trying to not smile.

He slowly crawled towards me but I stuck out my foot and pressed it against his shoulder, stopping him. This new side of me thrilled me. I was not being easy and I knew it.

He slowly looked at my foot on my shoulder, his gaze unreadable. I tried to keep a poker face but I could see that he was he was only humoring me.

He could probably overpower me but he wouldn't ever dare. He would never disrespect me like that. He would never take away the dignity that I tried to afford myself, so now he was stuck trying to maneuver around me.

Very gently, he picked my foot from his shoulder and I resisted the urge to pull away, curious to see what he would do. But he did exactly what I didn't expect him to do, he kissed my toe. I quickly pulled away, unable to help myself--I giggled.

He looked up, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards as he tugged my foot back. I complied with a little bit of resistance. I felt his hand go from my ankle to the inside of my thigh and I was literally trembling all over. His hands felt wonderful everywhere but I would never give up that easy. When he touched me _there_ , through the thin fabric of my cotton panties, I moaned, despite my efforts not to.

I quickly pulled my leg  away and scurried off the bed, watching him closely. There was something akin to triumph in his eyes and I didn't like that. I glanced at the door quickly and then back at him. He was watching me like a hawk, he knows my thoughts. His silence was thrilling. It made me want to evade him until he caught me.

 _‘I'll catch you_ ,’ his gaze warned me.

I shook my head, trying my luck. I turned towards the door and ran as fast as my legs would carry me to the door. I quickly opened the door and glanced behind me, only to find him languidly watching me from the bed. I quickly opened the door and ran out. He probably got off the bed and was running behind me by now. I got to the powder room as quickly as possible and pushed through the flimsy curtain. I glanced behind me and didn't find him. But I knew he was there.

To tease him, I began to undo the top layer of my dress. He was watching. I could feel his scorching gaze. I took off the top layer and carelessly threw it on the ground. Everything felt easy now even with my one hand.

I turned back towards the curtain, in my flimsy shift and corset. There he was, standing, his feet wide apart, his stance feral. His face gave nothing away but his eyes were like blue fire.

“I’m going to take a bath,” I announced needlessly, giving him an inviting grin. I took a step towards the springs, untying the laces of my corset.

“In your shift?” I heard him ask gruffly, when I took off my corset. I looked back at him and nodded.

“Yes, would you care to join?” I tested him. I didn't wait to see his answer because I had already stepped in the springs.

I heard him rustle his clothes behind me before I swiftly turned around. “You have to take off all your clothes,” I insisted and he smirked at me.

“How is that fair?”

“It is not,” I shrugged, splashing water all over my arms, “But I make the rules here.”

“So this is a game?” he asked me, looking me dead in the eyes as he unabashedly stripped.

The term ‘game’ sounded too feral. It felt violent and that is not my intention. I wanted this to be...fun. I was having fun. I enjoyed the competition.

“Call it a challenge--to woo me back,” I told him airily, giving a little turn looking up at him to make sure I still kept eye contact with him. My heart has not slowed its rate since the moment he threw me on that bed.  

He didn't say anything else as he stepped into the water, coming towards me. I backed away from him, unable to stop giggling.

“No,” I yelped as he swiftly came at me. In my hurry to get away from him, I slipped and completely submerged into the water. For a moment, all sound was cut off, and I kept falling and falling. I was too shocked to realise that. My body felt too heavy to try and swim up but thankfully Glorfindel caught me and carried me up to air. I gripped his arms, slightly discombobulated.

“Had enough?” He asked me gently, pressing my entire body, that he could seeing as there was an entire belly between us, against him.

“Just because you asked, no,” I said curtly, moving away from him. He let me go, watching me, his eyes taking across my body hungrily.

“You might as well be naked, my dear,” He informed me amiably. I playfully covered my breasts and angled my body away from him.

“How scandalous,” I gasped with faux horror, putting a hand over my chest dramatically.

But then a sharp pain ripped across my back and stump and all rationale flew from my mind. My back arched and I cried out in pain. This was never meant to happen now when he was here. It was always meant to happen in his absence.

I felt his arms go around me, hugging me close to him, maneuvering me so that my stomach as not in the way.

“What is it, My Love--my Sweet Summer wife?” his voice was almost hysterical with concern.

Unlike the previous time, his touch did not elevate the pain, but it relieved it and then...just as quickly as it came, it went.

I could breathe now. I looked up at Glorfindel, who was stroking my face, lovingly, with worry in his eyes.

“Tell me, what is it? If it pains you so much, it is my concern also,” he insisted and I shook my head.

“Just love me,” I begged. I didn’t want to talk about it because it only caused unnecessary concern. How can there be pain when it was not real?

“Not until you tell me,” He insisted, his eyes fierce and his blue eyes glowing worryingly bright.

“I-I don't know,” I said in a small voice, looking away, burying my face in his hard chest.

“Try,” He insisted, lifting me up and carrying me like a little puppy and sitting me on the rim of the springs, rubbing my belly soothingly.

I shrugged; “I--well. Those pains are fathom pains. They aren't real. They are the pains of my whip-marks, my stump, my ears...all my hurts,” I told him, looking away.

“How long has this been happening?” He asked me, stroking my hair , pressing kissed all over my face. I melted to him.  

“Since I regained my memories,” I shrugged. “That is why I don't worry about them. They only come and go.”

He stared at me incredulously, “You mean to tell me that pain is not real--it is of no consequence?”

“Well...yes, essentially,” I didn’t like the way he put it, even though that was pretty accurate.

“If it was of no consequence, it would not make you cry,” He murmured, wiping wetness from beneath my eyes. He leaned forward and kissed away the droplets on my face.

“That is just water,” I insisted, acutely aware of how untrue that statement was. I put my hands on his chest to try and push him away but he only held me tighter.

“Water--?” He began fiercely but I cut him off by pressing a finger to his lips. I grabbed his hand moved it from my face to my breast. He sucked in a sharp breath.

“I'm cold,” I pouted. “Do you feel it?”

His fingers caressed over my hard nipple: “I feel it.”

“Then I--take me back to the bed,” I insisted, looking him in the eyes, trying to appeal to him, judging by his dilated pupils, I didn't have to try very hard.

“This discussion is not over,” He warned me, pressing his hips into mine. I could feel him between my legs, hard and hot , of considerable size. The only material between him and I a thin layer of wet chiffon.

“Will you also make love to me?” I asked him, deliberately ignoring his previous statement. His hands slowly began peeling off my wet shift from my body.

“That is part of the plan,” He told me seriously. I gave him a silly smile and helped him take my nightgown off. As soon as I was naked as him, his hands rested on either sides of my breasts.

“You have always been so full of fire,” he murmured, his hands stroking my sides. I felt my head loll backwards from how good that felt. “So full of beauty, passion, and love. It is an elixir of its own to make love to you.”

I blushed at his words, they were so sensual but so sincere that I nearly peaked when he said them.

“Just love me,” I begged and I didnt have to wait long because not a moment later, he was carrying me to our rooms.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts from a different perspective.

Glorfindel watched his wife as she slumbered. The relief of having regained her memories, and remembering her love for him numbed his mind. Glorfindel understood that she didn’t completely remember the memories actually happening. But she remembered that these memories were hers. Then after, everything began to make sense when nothing else did. 

He was foolish to disregard her so callously. He was foolish to ignore her and say all those hurtful things to her. He was foolish to not listen to her, to not believe her. How long had they been married? How could he not trust her good intent, after all the many times she has proven herself; time and again? But she was far too forgiving. He did not deserve to be forgiven so easily but if he knew one thing, she hated when he hated himself for hurting her, after forgiving him. There was no benefit in distressing her with self-punishment.

She always loved to be the center of his attention. Glorfindel didn't have a problem in giving her attention. She deserved all the attention he could lavish on her, and then some more. She was just so pure and so nurturing. Her anger was soft but righteous and her forgiveness was swift and munificent. She was willing to die for him and she almost did, now with a stump as a reminder of what could have been a sacrifice. She was the best thing that happened to him. After crossing the icy chasm of the Herclaxe and losing all his close friends, relatives, and brothers-in-arms...after the long and arduous battles fought...after all this hardship; his wife was the elixir for life, love, and hope. She was perfect. She was a work of art.

She was a thick woman of relatively short stature. But her curves made his blood boil. She was the most feminine woman he had ever known. Everything she did screamed of elegance and fastidiousness. She always made sure that she was as perfect as possible, even with her scars (she was ashamed of them but Glorfindel thought they added to her charm), and only for Glorfindel--so as to please him and not shame him. That was something he appreciated more than he could express. He paid the same respect by trying to come back clean, with his scars as healed as was within his abilities so as to not worry her (but she did anyway)...but honestly, how could he ever compare to her? Her thoughtfulness was just so natural.

Her hair, her dark, beautiful curls--his hand would always be tangled in it, some way or the other. But that didn't mean he purposely pulled at it. She was not a horse--he could never disrespect her like that. He could never speak to her meanly in front of the company.

In a world of inequality between genders, she was his equal. His complete opposite, but still his equal. Her intellect, her deeds, her nature, it was different but equal in greatness. Her abnormalities, that had initially confused him and alarmed him, now had their own brand of greatness. Her femininity did not make her lesser than him. It balanced his masculinity. Her soft nature contrasted to his rough, hardened one. But he was only ever gentle with her. She may have seen brief glimpses of his hardness, no matter how hard he tried to keep it from her, but she still embraced it. She was so easy to be gentle with. She was so easy to love and make love to. 

But today, the _challenge_ she set before him excited him more than he thought it would. Seeing teasing glimpses of her...seeing her in that flimsy gown in the water, sticking to her like a second skin, and going into those springs...that did things to him and even now when he was spent, it did things to him. She wasn’t trying to seduce him so much as flee from him. But one thing he knew, from the sound of her heartbeat and the hitch of her breath, she loved being chased like a prey. He loved catching her in the end.

He watched his wife in her sleep. They made love until they could no longer, something else that Glorfindel always looked forward to after a few gruelling weeks of patrol. That and speaking with her...watching her do all her work...watch her do her routines. She also surprised him by showing him she was a relatively good and creative cook. It was something that pleasantly surprised Glorfindel. In Gondolin, they had the luxury of servants to cook for them. However, now with the decline in elven population and the absence of a grand estate that required extensive maintenance, there was no need for servants and for some two millennia, Glorfindel depended on either his cooking or his comrades’ cooking (leather and steel seemed to be predominant flavours). 

Glorfindel pulled the covers over his wife’s shoulders. She was susceptible to the cold, and he couldn’t risk too much with her because she always felt coddled and suppressed when he did (something Glorfindel tried _very_ hard not to make her feel). Glorfindel settled her closer to him and she, in her sleep, nudged closer to him. Her skin was warm against his, and her nakedness sizzled his senses. But Glorfindel wasn’t a lust-driven youth seeking pleasure constantly. He understood that sex wasn’t what made their marriage so successful and relatively unproblematic (it was a big factor), it was when they spoke to each other. Compromise and understanding were Glorfindel’s Holy Grail when it came to dealing with sticky spots and Elizabeth was very good at both. Glorfindel also enjoyed arguing with her because (he would never say it to her face) when she squared her shoulders and gave him that cute little pout, he was always tempted to kiss her. Or put her over his knee, depending on how heated the argument was (something he would never dare to try but often gave serious thought to). Whichever would work because after they would settle everything, she always demanded he make love to her (politely asked, but it always gave Glorfindel little choice because how could he refuse such a sweet and tempting request?). Only briefly before bed do they snack lightly on grapes, cheese, and milk (by her request, Glorfindel himself preferred the crisp Dorwinion, but she couldn’t stand the scent of it).

Elizabeth was carrying their child now. Something which both pleased him immensely and frightened all the sense out of him. The only disadvantage to her size was that his seed was strong, so with that came the large size that would have been normal for any other elven woman. But she was fragile, she could only handle so much. She was so late in her pregnancy that Glorfindel questioned the wisdom of taking her so roughly or taking her at all. But she didn't mind, in fact, she encouraged it. 

Eight months into the pregnancy, she looked as though she was in her earlier months but she often lamented of feeling big. Despite the baby being _big_ , she didn’t look _big_ , but the birthing process was difficult because she was not _big_. However, pregnancy had its benefits to her. Her skin was glowing and translucent and she had gained a lot of weight for her pregnancy, which pleased Glorfindel immensely. Lord Elrond had encouraged her to gain some more weight to hold off her own. It had its benefits too; she was infinitely softer now in her pregnancy.  She always was.

Glorfindel ran his hands across her body, gripping her lovely ass and pulling her closer. Her small stature allowed her to fit anywhere with him. He liked it that way. 

And yet, what sat unrestfully on his mind was her episodes of pains long-forgotten. It had alarmed him to see her crumple so violently before him. It had disturbed even more than it had been a recurring thing spanning over the course of months. He needed to know--what was happening to her? Why had she not gone to Lord Elrond about it? Why was she always so selfless, placing other people before her? A nagging feeling that she did not want to distract Lord Elrond from his own work festered in his mind. If he knew her well enough as he thought he did; that was probably the reason why. It angered him to think that she did not regard herself with the same importance that she was afforded, that she deserves, and that she had a right to. She was too perfect for this world and Glorfindel did not intend to lose her over poor decisions.

He couldn't very well be with her every second of the day and that was something she was incredibly understanding about. Unfortunately, this also meant that she neglected her own needs in his absence. She _needs_ to know that she was important, that she deserves help, and that she should never trivialize her pain.

“Hmmm…”She murmured in her sleep, snuggling closer to him and Glorfindel held her tighter, feeling his child kick from between them. The little print on his abdomen almost made him flip Elizabeth over, possibly waking her, just to listen to and feel their child move. 

But he didn't do that. He didn't want to wake her. He only contented himself with the feel of his child moving within Elizabeth, and her squirming against him. His hand trailed down over her stomach, feeling her stretch marks under his fingertips and the imprint of a fathom foot underneath the membrane of her stomach.

But he didn't need to wake Elizabeth, she woke on her own accord, clutching her side. 

“Oh, we have an active child,” She murmured sleepily, settling back against his chest. She took his hand and readjusted it against her soft but gravid stomach, further to her side. Immediately, as if sensing its father there better, the child kicked. 

“Yes we do,” he agreed.

“Ouch,” she murmured, wincing sleepily, stroking his arm and drifting off once more. 

His sweet, gorgeous wife. 

Glorfindel didn’t sleep, not often. But his wife slept, a lot. Her sleeping patterns were distinctly edain. Everything about her was distinctly edain. But her light--her fea, were not.  She spent nearly thirty-five years in Gondolin and her face never deviated from her fresh-faced, eighteen-year-old look. Her skin never folded where they usually did on other edain, nor did it begin to freckle, her hair never grayed and she never lost her virility. She was so startlingly...immortal. No one was sure what she was but one thing was certain, she was not edain.

But that made her fate all the more uncertain.

*~*~*

He watched nervously from afar as Elizabeth conversed with the Lady Galadriel. He was too far away to hear anything but he could see everything. He didn’t think either woman would appreciate him involving himself with their business. But Glorfindel was on edge. 

Elizabeth’s entire future depended on how invested Lady Galadriel was in her health. He didn’t want to offend Lady Galadriel. He didn’t want to upset Elizabeth. Hopefully, she would tell him afterwards but at the moment--

“You overthink,” It was Lord Erestor. He was one of the aloof scholars, but Glorfindel found he quite liked the ellon. His features were distinctly Noldorin, hinting at direct, Noldorin ancestry, but his slanted eyes suggested at a Silvan co-parentage.

“What makes you say that?” Glorfindel asked him pleasantly. It was a good distraction from Elizabeth’s affairs.

“What suggests I am wrong?” he shot back and Glorfindel turned to him, finally focusing. If this ellon wanted his attention, he had it now. “The possibilities can be quite a tease.”

Glorfindel was surprised at this ellon’s perception. Either that or everyone knew what was happening, something which Glorfindel very much doubted. Elizabeth was too lively and unconcerned to ever give such an impression. It must be his fault if so, he worried too much even when he tried to hide it.

“What do you speak of?” Glorfindel had to be sure.

“Nothing,” Lord Erestor replied smoothly, “But anyone can tell when the other is overthinking. It is a bad habit, makes them second-guess themselves.”

“Not all problems can be solved by ignoring them,” Glorfindel said testily, eyeing the cool ellon.

“Who said to ignore them?” Lord Erestor’s voice took on a scandalized tone. “Just don’t overthink them. It creates an even bigger problem.”

It was the strangest conversation he had ever had with someone (he had plenty of conversations with little children and edain, but those conversations were always strange) who was grown and lucid. 

“My worries are of consequence,” Glorfindel admitted, “There is a risk of…”

Losing her? Falling back into the hollow void that was a constant companion for the past four millennia? The uncertainty that was her fate?

“There is always the risk,” Lord Erestor said, turning around to walk away, clearly the conversation over, “Doesn’t mean it will end the world.”

It will end Glorfindel himself but he was too selfless to admit it because this time, he would be in danger of fading. The past four millennia, he barely held onto the last pieces of his life.

“My Lord?” Elizabeth’s sweet, fruity voice sounded behind him. He turned around quickly and found her looking at him with that same nervous smile she always gave him when they were not alone. She was so shy but so expressive, something that had intrigued Glorfindel since those adjectives were quite contradictory in themselves.

“Hmm…” he murmured, distracted by the way her dress fluttered around her ankles. But then he glanced behind her and the tall, statuesque Lady Galadriel stood there, looking at him with a knowing glint in her eye. He immediately straightened up. 

“My Lady,” he gave a deep bow before reaching out and pulling Elizabeth close to him, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. She discreetly gave his hand an assuring squeeze before letting go.

“I will see Lord Elrond now,” Lady Galadriel said airily, “I have much to discuss with him.”

“Of course,” he said, bowing once more, his hand discreetly supporting Elizabeth as she curtsied. She trembled a little when she did so. That was normal, he found, in the late stages of her pregnancy.  Once the Lady Galadriel departed, he turned back to Elizabeth, sitting her down on the bench overlooking the water gardens.

He didn’t put his arm around her and she didn’t snuggle to him as they would in the privacy of their own home. Instead, they sat just a few inches apart, enjoying each other's company.

“She gave me this,” Elizabeth held out her tiny hand, a small vial in her hand containing a lavender liquid, “She told me to drink it in hot tea when my water breaks.”

“What will it do?” Glorfindel eyed the tiny vial warily. It didn’t seem particularly harmful.

“Relax my muscles more, she told me,” Elizabeth informed him, tucking it back in her dress pockets (she sewed them on herself after she realized she wanted something to hold her quills for her). “It should make everything easier.”

“What is it called?”

“Limpe,” Elizabeth told him, somewhat hesitantly.

Glorfindel frowned, he vaguely remembered seeing limpe among the more rowdier parties, but he didn’t remember it being like this. “I did not know Limpe was used in childbirth.”

“It’s not a conventional use but it is a trade secret,” she winked at him mischievously and Glorfindel felt his lips twitch at her little attempt at a joke. “It has many other uses besides getting hot all over.”

She blushed as she said this and he could understand why. Limpe was something that elves drank in festivities to give them stamina and more liveliness. It was also used for other more private purposes. Glorfindel himself never drank from it because it would be frowned upon for a man of his stature and station to partake in it. 

“Is that all?” he asked her. He had decided, at this point forward, to not try to understand what women spoke about regarding their general health and well-being. It was far too contradictory for his mind to handle, but he was being open-minded about it--only because it came from the Lady Galadriel.

“No,” Elizabeth told him easily. “Oh, wait. She also said it was fine if you made love to me.”

The statement itself was bold and Glorfindel glanced about to see if anyone was listening in. There was no one.

“You asked her about that?” Glorfindel was amused. He didn’t think his sweet, skittish wife would ask about something like that.

“Well yes...you seemed very concerned about it,” she told him honestly, inching a little closer until their hips touched, angling her body towards him and gave him a shy, hopeful smile. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t,” Glorfindel said quickly, leaning down and stealing a kiss and quickly pulling away, admiring the flush on her cheeks. “Finally, something of consequence.”

This was his best attempt at a joke and she appreciated it well enough to give a little giggle. Then she winced and Glorfindel felt his heart drop to his stomach. He tried to seem unconcerned so as to not agitate her but he watched her, trying to read into her pain. Was it a phantom pain? Was it simply their child kicking? What was it?

But when she sighed in relief, Glorfindel felt his heartbeat pace normally again. She was going to be the death of him, surely.

  



	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion of this life.

The air was fresh here. There sand was nearly white and it was wonderful, even from a distance. There was no scent of sea rot, just the sea. The type of sea-smell that made one take a deep breath. The sun reflected of the water, giving the impression that the stairs were engraved on a bright, moring sky, and the waves made it all the more fascinating. After the terrible storms that we had to sail through to get to Valinor, it was well-worth it. 

Soon, I would see all the children I left behind--all my daughters. I took a deep, shuddering breath. Soon, I would also see Glorfindel and Augustus. Maybe not when I reach Valinor, or for the next hundred years. But I knew I would see them one day. They would no longer be warriors or warlords, or even leaders of their people--I probably won’t even recognize them. They will be normal. They will be a family. Sure they will take up other responsibilities. Time won;t stop for us, but we will ride the tide of change, surely. But I would see them soon again. For now--I would care for the Laurefindel Manor--It is my inheritance, from my husband. It is my responsibility.

From the shores of Tirion, I met my three daughters for the first time. Each of them was taller than I was, and infinitely more gorgeous. They stood with the same coloring and the same mismatched eyes that mirrored Augustus’s. They were the type of elleths that stonemasons carved, or that potterists molded, or that artists painted. I only knew them as little girls, barely on the cusp of woman hood. Still short and unflowered. But now they were not little girls. They were goddesses, the most beautiful and the little, biased side of me even dared to compre them to Evenstar, whom I still thought of dearly. Whome still broke my heart when I thought of her.

She was meant to be with Elessar, I knew that...but still. I understood Lord Elrond's pain and I was glad he hadn't been there for the end of her well-lived life. It still shocked me, even though the inevitability of it should have somewhat prepared me for it. When I think of it, I could feel my heart shatter to a million peices. There will never be a second coming for her, or any of those like her before.

Still, my daughters welcomed me with open arms and we spoke on the whole way to the estate. I could see each of them clearly, I could see their personalities written accross their faces. I could see their strength and their outspokeness. They took so much from Glorfindel, and so little from me. They recieved nothing from me but milk, and maybe that one brown eye.

All my daughters had gold woven in their hair, and it simmered splendidly in the sun and it blended in with the fact that they already had golden hair, courtesy and trademark of their sire. Ophelia had peridots in the gold of her hair, Victoire had rubies, while Primrose had sapphires, all representing of their affiliations and stations. A show of wealth and esteem...they married well and they lived comfortable. That was an assurance to me that I was guilty to have. How did I deserve the right to be concerned for them when I wasn't there for the last few milenia of their lives? But they didn't seem to care about that. Each woman had one crystal blue eye, and one chocolate brown eye, with full lashes and a few freckles here and there, an uncommon imbellishment to the elves, but no less charming--in fact, it amplified their beauty. They were like carbon colorings of eachother. But their features were differed. Ophelia's eyebrows arched differently from Primrose's or Victoire's. Victoire's chin was pointier. Primrose's face was rounder. Ophelia's voice was like a leaer, strong and powerful. Victoire was a little more soft spoken, her voice gentler, her manner less instense. Primrose spoke like a singer, a melody to ech of her words.

Days, weeks, months, and even years passed and our reunion always felt new with each day we saw each other. They had gotten over their grief for their loved ones. They would be reborn again, but not anytime soon. Celebrimbor, my dear Victoire’s love, from the curse of his house, would not be reborn until the Second Song of this world. Oropher would soon join Ophelia, as was promised. Already, her grandson, Prince Legolas, whom I had known in a previous life, was due to arrive. But Thranduil may never leave the shores of Arda, and I could never know how Ophelia felt about that because she refused to speak of it, even to her sisters, whome she was infinitely closer with. And Primrose, my youngest, who I spent the least time with, now boasted of five children with her husband. I was so happy for her. And it always saddened me to be aware of this, as well, because I know I missed out on a lot. It was unavoidable.

My grandchildren were now taller than I was, teenagers, I daresay. But I had not withered with age. Infact, I looked child-like next to all my descendants. I was always so small and fresh-faced next to all of them. But it was undeniable, who I was. 

I was beloved to the Prince of Valinor--the one-handed woman--who lost her arm for a cause that all the races of light fought for. There was no grand celebration at my arrival. There was nothing to differentiate me from all the rest of the elves around me. I simply kept to myself and prepared the Laurefindel estate for the arrival of my husband and son, who had long outlived his childhood and was now an apprentice to his father. Who was infact more like me than any of my daughters. His skin was dusky, just like mine. His hair was curly, just like mine, and it was light brown, as though it was stuck in a mid-way point between my hair and Glorfindel's. His eyes were chocolate brown, like mine. but he had his father's features and stature. He was a fine young man and I couldn't wait to hear the stories of his adventures once he returned to me, perhaps with a woman at his side. 

I would see Glorfindel again. In this life, or the one hereafter. I just knew it--because in span of four lifetimes, in one way or another, we always found each other.


	11. Age of the Fireflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Announcement.

Hey guys,

Just wanted to give a heads up to the new book in the series; _Age of The Fireflies_.

Slow updates, but sure updates. I already have a skeleton. I am in uni now and I a constantly exhausted lol.  

Also, Cover Art and Any type of art related to this series are welcome. If you guys are gonna suggest art that is not yours, make sure to include the original artist so that I am not penalized for plagiarism or anything, lol.

Short, sweet, and to the point. All criticism is welcome. Warning, the next book follows no sure plot of Tolkein's. It's all messed up and disorganized. I was too excited about this, lol. If you guys wanna point stuff out along the way, I have no problem, but do it kindly. If there is stuff you don't agree with, I'm always up for kind and respectful debate...etc.

Enjoy!

SleepEatRead.

 


End file.
